The Goblin Market
by Thing1
Summary: New chapter - so what?
1. Prologue

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THE GOBLIN MARKET

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Somebody asked JK Rowling in an interview how the goblins get the Muggle money back into circulation, after it is exchanged at Gringotts. Her reply intrigued me - she stated that the goblins were rather crafty, and in fact sort of 'fenced' the money back. We know the goblins to be rather testy and shady characters anyway - exactly how many 'goblin uprisings' have they been forced to write about in 'History of Magic' anyway? 

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DISCLAIMER: I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, JK Rowling, and all that are hers belong to her, and I thank the gods for her continued good humour that all of us who love those things may play with them. Other quotes used in the chapter headings are attributed as appropriate.

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Prologue

‡ŸŒł†ø

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This has got to be the stupidest thing I ever agreed to do.

Billy Stockwell crushed his cigarette out with a vengeance even as he pulled his coat more tightly around him. He had envisioned life as part of Europe's most prestigious gem cutting organisation to be a little more, well, upscale, than waiting on a decidedly foggy and getting-colder-by-the-second corner somewhere in The City late at night in the heart of winter. The street where he stood was practically deserted at this hour. Some rather dingy looking tiny old pub across the street was open and seemed to be doing some business, but judging by the rather eccentric look of the customers he'd seen, Billy highly doubted that he would want to go in and have a look about. He'd seen at least three men enter wearing, well, dresses of some sort, he was sure of it.

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Maybe it's just an English thing; don't they seem to have this weird obsession with 'fancy dress' parties?

After living in London for a year Billy had been invited to approximately four cocktail parties but six of the dreaded 'fancy dress' parties. He shuddered at the memory of spending four hours making small talk with people dressed in mermaid and frog costumes while resisting the urge to throw his wig into the fire with his painfully goofy 'breeches' right behind. He wasn't even sure what a footman was, but it seemed the most harmless outfit he could find.

Billy sighed, and decided that in fact this situation was the perfect coda to a long and wretched day. His cutting was improving, but this morning he had misjudged the lie of a crack on a rather large and nice sapphire, and had subsequently destroyed it. Certainly they would get two or three smaller stones, but they had hoped to have a nice three-carat emerald cut, not a few half-carat 'chips' as his teacher had pointed out testily. Billy felt so awful as he went to explain what had happened to the Master Cutter, he could barely speak. But the Master had just smiled and commented that they all made mistakes. Then he asked if Billy was busy that evening. Billy had shaken his head miserably, and the Master had asked if that were the case, would he mind very much running an errand for him. Billy had agreed without asking what the errand was, desperate to redeem himself slightly. He didn't really take heed of the smirk on the master's face at the time, but now he understood.

Billy lit another cigarette and leaned back against the wall again. He actually had no idea when this buyer was going to show up. He had been stunned when it was explained to him that he was going to be meeting a buyer that evening and delivering him his latest order. The Master had assured him that the buyer was an eccentric and always did his business late in the evening, and always sent a car to the same corner to pick up the seller and take him to whatever hotel he happened to be staying at that visit to London. Billy couldn't help but think this was all a little shady, but opted to keep his mouth shut and took the parcel handed to him. It was wrapped in standard brown parcel paper, but it was sealed with a red ribbon and a rather dodgy looking piece of metal with a strange looking symbol that had reminded Billy of the 'love medallion' his uncle had worn during his unfortunate mid-life crisis in the seventies. He had run a finger over the small circle, but instantly pulled his hand away as it strangely seemed to fill him with a strong sense of dread. The parcel was quickly dropped it into an inside pocket of Billy's greatcoat where it sat for the rest of the day.

Billy subconsciously patted his chest to check once more that the package was there, wondering exactly what gems might be inside. _None of your business; just wait here like a good doggie and get this over with._ With nothing better to do besides defy the increasingly intense and obnoxious health warnings on the effects of tobacco, Billy examined the strange and ancient looking pub across the street in more detail. 

It didn't seem particularly large, but Billy kept getting the odd feeling that he was missing something as he looked at the old plastered walls shimmering in the sulphur glow of the nearest streetlight. Only the right side of the front was really visible, the left cast in shadow as the light sort of seemed to fade away just before it cleared the small wooden front door. Billy dragged on his cigarette and huffed out a large cloud of smoke and chill. 

A tall man came out of the pub without a sound, wrapping a long black cloak tightly around him as he moved into the night. The man seemed to almost prowl down the opposite side of the road, out of the glare of the streetlight. Billy watched him, feeling an odd chill come over him and all the hair on the back of his neck stand up, despite the fact that the figure seemed completely uninterested in him and was moving quickly away. Billy blinked for a moment, and then the figure vanished completely into the fog. 

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Great. Not only am I freezing, I have now managed to give myself a serious case of the creeps. Wonderful job; excellent life. What's next?

Billy continued to stare nervously in the direction the man had disappeared, and actually found himself hoping that someone else came out of the pub and soon, dress or no dress. He tired to make out some of the advertisements in the window of the record shop across the way, but it was too dark. Billy couldn't help but be drawn back to look at the pub, and glanced up at the small windows of the upstairs rooms. A few were lit, but most were dark. As his eyes came to rest on the very top window in the darkest corner of the building, he thought, for a moment, that he saw two little bald heads and four little red eyes staring back down at him. He did jump back this time, and flattened himself against the wall. He closed his eyes tightly for a few seconds, silently vowing never to watch 'The Amityville Horror' ever again, then looked back at the window. Nothing. 

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Exactly how old are you, idiot?

He started to pace now, straining to hear if any of the distant traffic noises were going to come his direction. Billy supposed he was expected to stand here all night if necessary, but was becoming less and less confident by the minute that this was something he was up to. 

As he turned to pace back in the direction of the pub, he thought for an instant that he saw the door opening, but it closed and nobody emerged. _Someone decided not to leave just yet, I guess._ His heart rate had almost settled back down completely when a voice behind him nearly finished him on the spot.

"A very good, good evening, Sir," came a little growling voice.

Billy tripped over himself as he turned and staggered on the pavement, slipping off the curb and landing hard in the gutter. He ignored the fact he was now soaked in the remains of that afternoon's rain shower, and tried to see who had spoken to him.

In the shadow he himself had been standing in most of the night he could just make out two small figures. They each wore absurdly large hats pulled low over their eyes, and black coats with high collars that covered most of their faces. He could make out two identical grins, faintly, and four eyes twinkling at him. _I'm just imagining that those teeth look…sharp…._

"I do believe you have something we want."

Billy decided being mugged by two psycho midgets really was going to be the low point of his existence. Without argument, he reached into his pocket and held out his wallet. The two figures looked at it curiously, then giggled. It was an atrocious sound.

"No, no. We've no need of _that_. Your other possession, yes?"

Billy managed to get to his feet.

"Oh, oh, I'm…sorry. Yeah, um, I thought you were coming here in a car…."

They shook their heads vigorously in tandem with each other, then halted as one, as if on cue, and stared at him again. There was silence for a few moments, until Billy felt compelled to reach into his coat again, and this time bring out the package with its odd wrappings. He held it towards them, but was surprised to see they drew back slightly, and their grins faded a bit. Billy was certain he heard one of them mumble something that had to be a curse from the inflection, but he couldn't place the language.

"Would you mind, very much, removing that silly little bauble from the package for us?"

Billy stared at the dark figures again for a few moments, and then in somewhat of a daze reached to untie the ribbon and remove the disk it held. As before, the metal felt like ice when he brushed it and filled him with a dreadful feeling, but he continued. The two little men leaned towards him now, staring at the package and their grins returning.

Just as he managed to untie the last of the knots, Billy heard the low hum of a car coming from the distance. He hesitated a moment, but let out a gasp as the two men leapt forward just as the ribbon fell away from the package, taking the medal with it. Long fingers reached out and snatched the package, then vanished back into the shadows, even as the headlights of the approaching car became visible.

"Thanks," came the voice once more, giddy with laughter, then the two figures seemed to simply vanish. Billy reached forward and tried to grab them. Not to save the package, but to ascertain that they really hadn't simply disappeared into thin air. He was actually groping at the wall behind the spot where they had stood when the car came to halt next to him. Billy turned and gaped as three men wearing black dresses emerged from the car, followed by another little man, dressed in the same funny hat and coat as the other two had been. The little man immediately looked down at the medallion and the ribbon lying on the sidewalk and gave an enraged shriek.

Billy turned as he felt someone grab his arm. He stared into the face of one of the men in the dresses.

"Well, Mr. Stockwell, you haven't had a good day, have you? _Stupefy…."_

The last thing Billy remembered before he passed out was the freak in the dress waving a stick in his face.

***

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	2. Upsetting the Applecart

Chapter One: Upsetting the Applecart

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In which we start the tale….

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We must not look at goblin men,

We must not buy their fruits:

Who knows upon what soil they fed

Their hungry thirsty roots?

'Goblin Market' - Christina Rosetti

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Hermione Weasley was humming to herself as she finished clearing up the last of the day's work, preparing to go home. Gary, Sallie and Bess had come home from Hogwarts for the Christmas holidays the day before, and she was anxious to get back to the house and finally have the chance to have a proper talk with them. At the very least she wanted to get to the bottom of why her oldest was behaving in a rather zombie-like fashion. 

She did stop by Harry's office before she left the Ministry, but he had already gone home himself, and all she found in his office was a note on his desk that simply read 'GO HOME HERMIONE'. Hermione laughed and left a rather rude note in response, then made her way out of the building, actually sighing as she stepped off the bottom step of the entryway. She was secretly thrilled at the prospect of two weeks off with the whole rowdy crew at home. Hermione didn't go back the house immediately, however, as she needed to stop by Diagon Alley for a few things first. Apparating to the alleyway near the Leaky Cauldron, she quickly ran inside out of the rain, so she could pass through to the shops.

"Mrs. Weasley!"

Hermione turned to find Roarke Lupin walking over to her, and gave a small laugh as she hugged her.

"I know you call me that as a joke, but _please_!"

"Oh, yes, ma'am," said Roarke, laughing at her in return. "Last minute shopping?"

"Always. Same for you?"

"You know how impossible it is to shop for Malcolm; he never says what he wants, just says whatever you get is fine with him. Git."

Hermione got a glass of Butterbeer and went to sit with Roarke for a while and chat, as she had not seen her for quite a while.

"How _is _your brother?" asked Hermione quietly after they had chatted about a few non-essentials for several minutes. Malcolm and his girlfriend of seven years had split-up recently, Hermione knew from speaking to a rather depressed Remus about it. Roarke gave a small smile.

Roarke gave a rather exasperated smile and shook her head, even as she assured Hermione that young Mister Lupin was much as he always was, thank you. "He was rather sad, but he's much better than Dad would have you believe. He's taking it much worse than Malcolm, actually. We all liked Storry, but, well, some things aren't meant to be now are they?"

Hermione shook her head and smiled back. "No, I suppose not. Glad to hear Malcolm's well, though. Your father does seem very upset over it. Well, as upset as he can ever seem, that is. Almost as depressed as when you, my dear, graduated this last summer and moved out!"

"Oh, surely not as bad as that. At least he isn't Apparating over to Malcolm's flat every 20 minutes to make sure 'everything's alright'."

"Every 20 minutes?"

"20 minutes, 2 days, it all seems to run together. I love the lummox to death but he's got to accept I'm 18. Mum seems to have no trouble with it."

Now Hermione laughed and shook her head. "No, she's just better at keeping it in check, trust me. Even after all of these years, we still haven't figured out how to get Remus to stop doing something he's truly put his mind to, such as being overly protective; even your highly resourceful and clever mum."

"How's Gary?" asked Roarke, changing the subject rather suddenly. Hermione gave a shrug.

"I'm not sure. He seems upset about something, but I haven't had the chance to talk with him."

"Ah. Well, I might be able to help with that. I had dinner at the house last night; we all were there to meet Annie when she came home yesterday. She and I had a long talk about…things."

"Things?"

"Sister things; most of it is rather silly and giggly I'm afraid. But she told me all about the Yule Ball."

"Did she have a nice time?"

"Yes. She had a very nice time with Gary."

Hermione almost dropped her drink. "Gary? My Gary?"

"Your Gary. That detention Gary and Griffin managed to squeeze in before the end of term? That was for hexing _each other_ over breakfast. Griffin rather overreacted when Annie told him she was going with Gary to the dance."

"That's interesting. It also explains why Griffin barely said two words at the train station."

Roarke nodded and smiled. "Griffin, I think, needs a wake up owl. Or a very good smack upside the head. Of course, I've been saying that for years."

Hermione chuckled, but looked at Roarke and waited for her to continue.

"I gather that Griffin _assumed_ Annie would go with him, as she usually does for 'convenience', but never actually _asked _her. Gary, it would seem, did, and she said yes. Griffin exploded, as only our dear little Griffin can do."

Hermione shook her head and smiled. "Well, I know something about people taking forever to admit their feelings. Ron and I did not have an easy start of it, you know."

Roarke raised her eyebrows in surprise and Hermione had to smile at how much she looked like Remus.

"Does Annie _know_ why Griffin was angry?" Hermione continued.

"No, honestly. Griffin is, and always has been, her best friend. Period. I truly think she has no idea why he was so angry, she simply ranted about him 'making daft assumptions'. She also pointed out that when word got out that Griffin was 'available' for the dance there was a considerable uproar, and Griffin took _full_ advantage of it before he decided to take Raven Brocklehurst to the Ball. Annie did, however, tell me that in a rather bitter tone of voice."

"Pretty, this Raven?"

"Rather gorgeous and a Chaser on the Gryffindor team. Talk about fearless; she's practically dangerous out there. Ron should put her on his prospects list."

"I'll mention it to him."

Hermione stood up and smiled at Roarke. "Say hello to everyone for me, and let your mother know we will be there spot on eleven on Christmas. We should also have a little pow-wow with Liz about this, well, rift, with Griffin and Gary so it doesn't endanger us during the party."

As she turned to leave, a Ministry Wizard stepped up to the table.

"Excuse me, ladies, might I have a word?"

Hermione saw Roarke get a rather steely look to her, but they both nodded, and Hermione sat back down.

"Were either of you here last night, perchance?"

Hermione shook her head, but Roarke nodded.

"I passed through to use the fireplace to return home," she said in an icy voice. The wizard looked at her.

"What time would that be, Miss?"

"Around nine. Sorry I don't have the _exact_ minutes for you," she continued in the same cold voice. The wizard looked at her for a moment, then nodded.

"Well then, thank you but you can be of no service to us. Good day." He moved on to the next table and asked the same question of the wizards and witch seated there. Hermione watched Roarke continue to give the man a bitter glance as he moved off into the crowd.

"Roarke?"

Roarke turned and looked at Hermione with a flat expression.

"We're not all idiots at the Ministry, you know."

Roarke nodded and managed a weak smile.

"I know that, Hermione. Please give my love to Ron and the rest of them and I'll see you on Christmas."

Hermione left to do her shopping, returning to the Leaky Cauldron as it got dark to make her way home. It was surprisingly quiet when she got there. Hermione found the twins in the parlour diligently doing their homework in an effort to get it done as soon as possible so they could enjoy the break, and smiled to herself, deciding not to disturb them just yet, other than to say hello. Making her way to the second floor, she found Ron in the den working on a games schedule. This she did interrupt.

"Hello, Ron."

Ron looked up and smiled at her, then pulled her down so she was sitting on the arm of his chair and wrapped an arm around her, though he still kept at the games schedule.

"Hi there. Well, all done at the Ministry?"

"All done. I am _free_, I think, for two weeks."

"Good," he said absently as he kissed her hand and continued to scribble.

"Ron?"

"Hmmmm?"

"Do look _up_ at me, please, dear."

Ron glanced up with a slight grin at his wife.

"Yes, Mione?"

"Have you seen Gary today?"

"I saw a blur that gave a muffled and rather unenthusiastic 'hi dad' as it dashed up the staircase trailing bits behind it. As it looked suspiciously like our son I let it pass."

Hermione had to smile and shake her head. "You should, um, talk to him."

"Heart, you sound rather uncharacteristically subdued. That frightens me somewhat."

"Ron, put _down _the quill _and _the games schedule and _look_ at me."

"Now that's more like it."

"Shut up. Listen, Gary needs to have a talk, with you, right now."

"Does he? Did he say so or are you saying so?"

"I'm not in the mood, Ron. He's done something rather rash and I think he could use a little talk. Unfortunately, there's no real way to make it easy for him…."

"Now I'm scared. He and Griffin haven't hexed something illegal again, have they?"

"I doubt from the sound of things he and Griffin will be hexing anything but each other in the near future."

"Now that is a bother. Out with it, Mione."

"He asked Annie to the Yule Ball."

Ron gave his wife a surprised look.

"Annie Lupin?" 

"She said yes."

"Oh, that's …interesting. What possessed him to do…Good gods; Annie didn't manoeuvre an invitation out of him did she? Not like her."

"No. Now please go talk to him; it explains why he's looking like he is and why Griffin barely spoke yesterday. I met up with Roarke this afternoon and she had a talk with Annie about it. Annie was happy to go with Gary, and they had a nice time, but, well, what can I say? You and I know something about what this is all about, don't we?"

Ron chuckled, even as he stood up. "Yes, we do. Only we do have an unknown factor here. We have all known for years how Griffin feels, no matter how silent he is, but what about Annie? Are we making up her mind for her?"

"You're missing my point. If Annie doesn't return Griffin's feelings isn't the issue; the fact is that Griffin and Gary are having a fall-out because Griffin doesn't admit _his _feelings. You need to explain to Gary that, well, this is complicated. Right?"

"Don't I know it. But between you and me, I think Annie _does_ feel the same way."

"I haven't a clue. According to Roarke and Katie, she's never given any indications of it, so there you are. And if Gary fancies her, he has every right to ask her out. He just needs to understand that it could get very…messy. And I truly hope he hasn't fallen completely for Annie because I honestly don't know what she might decide in the end. This is most likely…."

"Going to force Griffin to get off the bench. Yes, I see that and I feel for Griffin. Well, Fine. I'll go be a good dad. By the way, a letter was dropped off for you from Sirius. I've put it on your desk," he said, waving a hand absently in the direction of her desk as he walked out. "Wish me luck."

Hermione walked slowly over to her own desk and looked at the scroll lying there. She really didn't feel like opening it, but Sirius never bothered her with anything unless it was important. Or at least, unless he defined it as important, which didn't always hold up to other people's interpretations. Deciding to get it over with, she sat down and opened the scroll to find a short letter and a cutting from the Daily Prophet.

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Hermione - 

Did you see this in this morning's paper? It is carefully **not** mentioned in here that this is the third time this has happened in two months. Are you lot in the Legal Department working on this, or have they pushed it all into the Department of Mysteries in the hope it won't come to light again? I actually tried to get Percy Weasley to tell me something. Luckily his aide was there to cast a quick revival spell. Ah well.

Thanks; talk with you soon.

Sirius

PS - The Boy told me what happened. He has only himself to blame, as far as I'm concerned, but I was a good daddy and didn't say that. He's not mad at Gary, as such, mostly at himself. Nice to see his mother's good sense so strongly in him; I would have been rather wretched. BTW; if you have no idea what I'm talking about, contact me at home by the fire.

Hermione chuckled quietly, imagining Griffin logically and methodically explaining what had happened as he was prone to do, then completely loosing his temper and refusing to speak about it again. _16, such a great age that was…._

She opened the cutting and glanced at the headline. It was small, so it must have been in the back pages somewhere and she wouldn't have read it. Sirius was the only person she knew who read every single inch of the paper everyday. 

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Muggle Attacked Outside of the Leaky Cauldron

(UWI) An unidentified Muggle was attacked and robbed last night across the street from the Leaky Cauldron. He identified his attackers to the Enforcement Arm as 'insane midgets'. It is suspected that the man was in fact engaged in trade with Gringotts in some capacity, and that is why he was targeted. After his attack, the man was then charmed by an unidentified wizard in public. The Enforcement Arm arrived just as the unidentified wizard and his companions fled the scene in an unregistered automobile. The Minister of Magic declined comment, and simply stated that the man had had his memory modified, and was returned to his home no worse for wear.

Hermione then looked at Sirius' notes in the margin.

_midget/goblin?_ _Engaged in trade = 'unofficial' Why is Gringotts using unregistered cars?_ _Who is stupid enough to mess with gblns but oth. Gblns_ _Contact Dexter - since when does he decline comment? Is this related to that 'favour' he needs?_ _Ask H. if she's seen this_

Despite herself, Hermione couldn't help but wonder why on earth Sirius cared about this. It sounded to her like some disreputable wizards and a goblin or two probably got drunk and just decided to have some fun with the Muggle. _Lord knows I deal with enough of those situations_. But she looked again at 'Is this related to the 'favour' he needs' and thought about that. The Minister of Magic only used Sirius for 'favours' he'd rather not talk about in Cabinet sessions and the like. And if someone was getting in the way of the Gringotts operations, that certainly qualified as 'hear no evil, see no evil' at the Ministry.

Hermione tucked the note and the clipping into her desk, and decided she'd wait until tomorrow morning to get back to Sirius.

***

Griffin Black wandered in a rather aimless fashion around the house until he decided to go and see what his father was up to, in a desperate effort to distract himself. He had no idea where his mother was, but assumed she'd be back in time for dinner. He sulked past the large Christmas tree in the front room, waiting to be decorated by them that evening, but that was one of the last things he felt like doing. _Ho, ho, bloody ho,_ Griffin grumbled to himself as he moved into the hallway towards his father's office. 

It was very dark in the hallway, as Sirius had not emerged all afternoon and had not yet risen to light the lamps. The only light was the faint orange glow of his father's fire that came through the slightly ajar door at the end of the hall. Griffin could hear his father speaking softly, and assumed he was speaking to someone in the fire. Griffin hesitated, but if his father had the door open, it was an invitation in. Griffin did slow and stop before he entered, however, just to try and make sure it would be okay for him to go in.

"Just give me a few days to iron out the details, but honestly I don't think we'll have too much trouble with the application. You're registered, have been for years, you have Ministry credentials….yes, limited ones, but still, you've got them. I'll ask you to remember how bloody hard I and a few others worked to get those for you. And, believe it or not, you do garner respect in odd places."

Griffin heard Remus' quiet laugh. 

"Of course it helps us tremendously that we're asking to arrive two days after the full moon and we'll only be there a week. The German Ministry actually only allows werewolves a two week visa anyway, I found out, and the individual in question either has to leave well before the moon fills or spend the time confined in some safe house the Ministry has in some place called 'Sardloch'. I managed to find it on a map, eventually. And, finally, you have an inexhaustible supply of potion thanks to that lovely lady you live with there. Don't fret."

"I'm not fretting. I just…Sirius I still find situations like this, well, annoying. And tiring. And let's face it, embarrassing."

"What's embarrassing about it?"

"Oh come on Padfoot, how would you like to stand up in front of a scowling committee and have them stare at you as you ask, politely, to be granted status as a human being for a week?"

"Moony, some people still cross the street when they see me coming, you know."

"Yeah. Well, what can we do? Thanks for taking care of this visa and keeping it all relatively quiet. I hate things like this getting discussed in front of the children. It's no secret, but…I don't know."

"I understand. Although I do feel the need to point out that your 'baby' is 16 and the other two now live on their own."

Remus laughed again. "True, but in a way they're always four aren't they? Although yours might explode if you suggest that."

"Mine would, yes. Very grown up, he is, you know."

"Everyone's grown up compared to you, Padfoot."

"I'm not taking that from a man who only last month set up what has got to be the most elaborate booby-trap I have ever seen _purely_ for the sport of seeing if he could get all four hexes off before his wife could block them."

"She stopped the last one, you know. Then covered me with feathers and hung me upside down from the central beam in the living room where I hung giggling for about an hour."

"Well, she was here with Liz giggling like mad as well, so you're even."

"My love to Liz and Griffin, and I'll see you soon."

"Give my Katie-girl a hug and tell that Annie not to fret, sensibility will win the day in the end."

Griffin cringed, knowing that they must have been discussing, well, **that**. _Can't I just turn into a moron quietly in peace and with no bother?_ Griffin heard a faint 'pop' as Remus disappeared, then knocked on the office door after a few moments.

"Yes?"

Griffin walked in and smiled at Sirius with a slightly embarrassed look.

"So, you still think there's some hope for my being sensible?"

Sirius laughed and nodded. "I know you to be a very sensible young man. Well, about most things. And I'm pointedly overlooking the fact that, gods help us all, you seem to have inherited your grandmother's talent for Astrology and divinations."

Griffin did laugh at this and sat down.

"Dad, you know I don't believe…." Griffin stopped as Sirius grinned and shook his head.

"I know, I know. Your mum back?"

"Mrs. Black is still missing, it would seem."

"Then she's going to miss dinner, because I can't wait anymore. Must have finally succeeded in cornering Dexter and is not about to let him go before he _really_ gets an earful."

"What were you talking to Remus about?"

"Ah. Well, after the New Year Moony and I are going over to Germany on a little 'official business' for Dexter."

Griffin looked surprised. "They're letting Remus represent the Ministry on his own? That's…well it's great, but it's unusual."

Sirius gave a slight scowl, even as he stood up and held his arm out for his owl to climb onto.

"Well, it's not exactly a 'glamour' job we're being asked to look into. Something to do with goblins."

"Goblins?"

"The one thing even I know not to mess with. So, why bother the nice respectable Ministry Wizards when you can shove the job off on the werewolf and the ex-convict, right?"

Griffin followed Sirius down the hall towards the front of the flat, where Sirius opened the window and sent the owl out for some exercise. With a sigh, Sirius closed the window and turned back to Griffin. He was about to say something when he stopped and gave Griffin an odd look with a faint smile.

"What?"

"You're as tall as I am now, Young Mr. Black. Wow."

"Wow?"

"I've had a long day, that's the best I can muster. Come on, dinner."

"Will you tell me about the goblins until Mum gets back?" asked Griffin slyly with a conspiratorial grin. Sirius turned back to him, put an arm around his shoulders to pull him close, returned the grin, and said,

"No."


	3. Secrets of Industry

Chapter Two: Secrets of Industry

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In which Billy Stockwell meets two strange men in the oddest office he has ever seen, Roarke gets a very odd letter, and the chief of Gringotts makes some rather rude and disturbing remarks to an exasperated Minister of Magic.

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BANK business entity formed to maintain savings and checking accounts, issue loans and credit, and deal in negotiable securities issued by government agencies and by corporations. Banks are strictly regulated and fall into the following three categories according to the legal limitations upon their activities. COMMERCIAL BANK: SAVINGS AND LOAN ASSOCIATION: SAVINGS BANK

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MALICIOUS MISCHIEF intentional damage or destruction of another person's or business's property. Insurance can be purchased by the owner of the property to protect against this exposure. 

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- Barron's 'Dictionary of Business Terms'; Second Edition: Jack P. Friedman, Ph.D., CPA General Editor

***

Billy Stockwell double-checked the address given to him, looking up at the small office building he stood in front of. It seemed the same as any other sooty, old, five or six storey stone office building in London, but something about it felt a trifle odd to him. The only décor on the façade was a small frieze along the stone roof, but he couldn't tell at this distance what the figures were doing. Billy sighed, and tucked the paper with the address into his coat pocket as he decided to just go in and face the music. He had felt odd all weekend, unable to shake the feeling that he was, well, _missing_ something. Billy remembered vividly watching the sapphire he had been working on last Friday shattering as he slipped while cutting it, but after going up to see the Master Cutter and discussing what had happened, nothing. He barely recalled opening the door to the Master's office; then all of a sudden it was Monday and he was due back in the shop.

__

Nerves. You really, really screwed that up. But why have I been sent here? Billy was unclear as to why he had been sent to this place, knowing only that the Master had personally put him into a cab that morning, said it would be explained to him later, and told the driver where to go. The driver hadn't said a word to Billy as he steered through the London traffic, seeming to slingshot around Piccadilly Circus with even more recklessness than the average cabby. Billy could have sworn they actually went _through_ the square, rather than around it, and the statue of Eros had simply side-stepped them gracefully.

The cabby dropped him off on a quiet tree-lined street near the Victoria Embankment, but sped off before Billy paid him. _The Master must have already given him the fare when I was picked up…._ Billy walked up the steps and glanced at the small brass plaque with the building number next to the left door, double-checking he was really where he was supposed to be. He had the impression, for a moment, that he seemed to be entering one of the barristers' offices that littered the neighbourhood, but there was no official title or even formal house name. The plaque simply read '42' in an older style block text.

Billy slowly turned the brass handle on the heavy wooden door and stepped inside to find a bilious green marble hallway lit by large heavy antique lamps hanging from the high panelled ceiling. There were no doors whatsoever in the hallway, but a fair-sized staircase was at the far end, curling upwards with a slow and lazy bend to the left. Billy walked to the foot of the stairs, then paused at the bottom step. He glanced back at the doorless corridor nervously, and his feeling of simply missing something intensified. Shaking himself, he almost angrily turned to march upstairs in a determined fashion. His footsteps echoed loudly off of the stonework.

The stairs seemed to go up several flights of the building without opening onto any floors, then ended at a rather small corridor. This corridor was panelled with dark wood, like the ceilings, and also lit with the heavy lamps from the entry. There were no doors here, either, save a single one Billy could just make out at the very end of the passage. He made no sound on the hall's thick red carpet as he went to the door, and knocked.

After a moment the door opened, and Billy heard a man call out his name and invite him in. He stepped forward, jumping as the door swung closed behind him of its own accord. Someone called out his name again, this time in a questioning voice, then asking him to come into the next room. Billy stepped out of the small entry way into the open door on his left.

The room was gigantic; at least two stories high, and absolutely covered with bookcases and barristers cabinets that seemed to be stuffed with scrolls of some sort, not files. Billy gaped as he took in the look of the place. The walls and ceiling were painted a rich red, and the wainscoting and lamps were gold. One wall was almost half covered with a white marble fireplace that was practically tall enough to stand in, were it not for the roaring fire. On the mantle were two rampart lions in the same gold colour as the wainscoting on each side of the fireplace, and the oddest collection of whatnots Billy had ever seen. There was a telescope, numerous ancient looking books, some with their seams bursting, a brass cup-looking object with what appeared to be bottle-rockets sitting in it, a stuffed raven, a large red ball of some sort that looked slightly beat up, a huge jar of jelly-beans, several antique looking bottles with rounded stoppers and labels written in an elegant, sweeping calligraphy, and finally several pictures which seemed to be moving in the twinkling of the firelight. _Weird_.

"Mr. Stockwell?"

Billy turned from the fireplace towards the voice he had heard earlier inviting him in. At the far side of the room against the windows, which were draped in red velvet the same shade as the walls and tied back with thick gold cords, was a large desk that seemed to be covered in more of the same books, scrolls and odd items as were on the mantle. In front of the desk were two large leather sofas and a low stone table. Behind the desk, of all things, was a large cage holding what was without question a pair of owls, sleeping side by side on a perch.

A man was walking around the desk towards him, smiling and holding out his hand.

"Thank you for coming," he started in a deep voice Billy could hear a faint Scottish lit in under the obvious British-boarding school tones, "please, do sit down."

Billy shook the man's hand as he came to a stop in front of him and grinned at Billy, shaking his hand firmly. He appeared to be in his early forties, with grey just starting to show slightly in his black hair. His eyes were almost as dark as his hair, but had a friendly look to them. The obvious laugh lines on his face made Billy relax slightly and give his own small smile in return as he dropped the man's hand. The gentleman was dressed in an elegant black suit, paired with a deep blue shirt and regimental tie of the seemingly endless colour scheme of red and gold, but he seemed a little uncomfortable in the clothes as he took a seat on the opposite sofa and fiddled with his coat as he settled.

"Mr. Stockwell, thank you for coming. My name is Mr. Black, and I have been asked by your employer to ask you a few questions about an incident I believe you were witness to a few days ago."

"I...I'm sorry? Mr. Black, you said? I'm not sure what you're talking about."

Mr. Black smiled at him again and simply said, "Yes, well, when my colleague gets here we'll see what we can do to help you remember. Tea? Or do you prefer coffee like most of the Americans I've met?"

__

Help me remember what? "Um, coffee, yes please."

Mr. Black stood up gracefully and wandered though a small door at the far side of the room Billy could have sworn wasn't there when he looked before, calling out casually behind him as he went, "So, where in America are you from, then?"

"I'm from Massachusetts, originally."

"Ah, I've been there. Where about?"

"Salem."

Billy heard a snort of laughter that was quickly swallowed. _What's so funny?_

Mr. Black walked back out carrying two cups that he placed on the stone table, smiling again at Billy. "Well, quite the reputation that town has. Historically, I mean."

"Oh, you mean the witches and all that? Yeah, people still come in droves to get into all that. Lots of them are just nuts."

"'Nuts'?"

"A little crazy. They're really into the whole 'witches and wizards' thing; come to 'be one with their fallen brethren' or something. Take a walk around the town any Saturday night and you'll find all sorts of people holding 'rituals' in the graveyards. Whatever; they have a right to do what they want to. From what I understand, though, those people have very little to do with 'real' Pagan or Wiccan practises and beliefs. These are just people seeing if the book of spells they picked up in a tourist booth for five bucks might work after they've had too much beer. It's especially bad," he continued, hearing the outer door open and shut faintly," during the full moon. That _really _brings out the fruitcakes."

Mr. Black chuckled as he leaned back and threw an arm casually over the back of the couch. "Well, full moons do bring it out of some people," here he looked past Billy towards the door with a grin, "don't they?"

Billy turned to see a man was walking in through the doorway to the entry hall, giving Mr. Black a rather dry look. Billy gave a little start; although this man looked pleasant enough, he gave Billy an uneasy feeling for some reason.

"Mr. Stockwell, this is Mr. Lupin. Who is late."

Mr. Lupin ignored Mr. Black and came forward without a sound to shake Billy's hand, smiling softly at him.

"A pleasure, Mr. Stockwell."

"Mr. Lupin," Billy said, hearing the nervousness in his own voice. It was surprising; there was absolutely nothing threatening about this man who seemed the same age as his colleague, though his short hair was entirely silver and his eyes seemed a little sunken, thanks to darkish circles around them. He was thin and pale, but his face was quite young looking, and his eyes had the same amused twinkle Mr. Black's had. Billy couldn't fathom why his hand seemed frozen as he dropped Mr. Lupin's and sat back down. Mr. Lupin, dressed in a dark grey suit practically the same shade as his eyes that he also seemed uncomfortable in, sat next to Mr. Black and set a small square wooden box on the stone table in front of him. 

Mr. Lupin must have noticed Billy looking at the box oddly, having never seen anything like it, and said in his soft, somewhat hoarse voice, "It's an apothecary's box. An antique one."

Billy just looked at him and gave a small nervous nod, having no idea what an apothecary was, let alone an apothecary's box. Mr. Black looked at the box and gave another of his low chuckles.

"Does the apothecary _know_ their box has gone missing?"

Mr. Lupin smiled at Mr. Black and reached forward to start opening the heavy brass latches on the box.

"If the apothecary had waited for the apothecary's husband to come down to breakfast before they left for the day, as the husband had requested the previous evening when the apothecary was so kindly preparing the contents of the box, the apothecary would have been able to provide a more suitable container for the husband's use."

"The husband sleeping in again, was he?"

"Last in the shower, actually," said Mr. Lupin, removing a bundle wrapped in a plain cloth and placing it on the table between Billy and himself. "The young apothecary's habits of lingering in the bathroom for extended lengths of time have not improved this semester while they were at school, and the apothecary's husband has been too pre-occupied assisting old friends with their work to complete the repairs on the plumbing, leaving us all the mercy of the young apothecary's schedule and the single operating shower."

"I suggest the apothecary's husband get a move on with his "I'll take care of it myself" tendencies or Christmas may not be so happy this year."

Billy felt himself staring at the two men in their elegant but uncomfortable suits as this bizarre conversation went on casually across from him. Mr. Lupin caught his eye and smiled the same vague, soft smile he had when he came in and unwrapped the bundle. Billy's nervousness over the man returned as he saw two harsh white scars on the man's hand emerging from his immaculately pressed French cuff. _How the hell did he do that?_

Before Billy could say anything, Mr. Black clapped his hands and sat forward as the bundle opened.

"Ah good. Mr. Stockwell, these are, without question, some of the finest scones you will ever eat, I promise. Mr. Lupin's lovely wife makes them when I ask her in my nicest tones. I insist you have one as we continue our conversation. Would you prefer a currant one, there, or you might want to try one of these cherry ones. I prefer the cherry ones, myself," he smiled, taking one up and breaking the rather large pastry in two, placing half on his saucer and biting into the other half with a large smile.

"There is also cranberry," smiled Mr. Lupin. Billy looked up into the man's eyes and found himself oddly captivated. While something in the back of his head screamed at him not to touch any of the scones under any circumstances, Billy reached forward and slowly picked one up, neither knowing nor really caring what flavour it was.

"Thanks…" he said, sounding a little uncertain to his own ears, but the silver haired man just smiled a little wider and with a touch more kindness. Billy bit into the scone, and he had to admit to himself that he had never tasted anything like it. _Wow; that's really delicious!_

He smiled at Mr. Lupin for the first time, who was now slowly eating a scone himself.

"These are great; your wife a professional cook?"

Mr. Black chuckled again, but Mr. Lupin simply continued to smile. "After a fashion," he said, softly. There was silence for a long moment as the men ate the scones and watched each other, until Mr. Black moved forward to rest his arms on his knees and said, "now, about last Friday night…."

***

Billy blinked a few times in the fading winter sunlight. For some reason he was standing on a quiet tree-lined street, but wasn't sure why. _I was supposed to have an appointment….no, no; I did meet with someone, just like the Master Cutter asked me. Didn't I?_

Glancing up at the street marker, Billy saw that he was in fact where he was supposed to go. He looked over his shoulder at the building behind him, but there was no sign on it, simply a small brass plaque that read '42'. _What is wrong with me? I feel like I haven't been able to focus on anything for days now!_

Just at that moment, the door to Number 42 opened, and a man who looked vaguely familiar stepped out. He turned back to the door and seemed to mutter something at it, then quickly came down the steps and smiled at Billy. The smile looked very familiar….

"Mr. Stockwell, thank you so much for taking the time to come and speak with me," he said.

"You're welcome, Mr. Black," Billy said, trying for the life of him to remember how on earth he knew this man's name. But it didn't really seem to matter….

"You'd best walk up that street towards St. Bride's Church; see the spire just there? You can easily catch a cab on Fleet Street. Shall I walk you there?"

"No, no thanks. I can manage."

"Right then. Again, thank you for your help. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm due for another meeting. Goodbye!"

Mr. Black turned quickly in the direction opposite of where he had directed Billy and was out of sight in the blink of an eye. Slowly Billy turned, and fixing his eyes on the spire of the church Mr. Black had pointed out, started walking, grateful that _something _seemed solid and real around him.

***

Roarke let herself into her flat, and promptly allowed all of the bundles she had been leading before her to fall to the floor with a flick of her wand as soon as the door had closed. Stepping over the bags in front of her, she pulled her cloak off and tossed it in the general direction of the coat rack behind the door, and stepped into her rooms with a happy sigh. _That's it; the last of it. We'll see if I can't startle Malcolm with a truly inspired Christmas gift this year._

Smiling at the idea of her brother's delighted face, Roarke went down the hall into the front room to check if there were any messages. She was surprised to see her brother's owl, Boinn, perched on the back of a chair. The lovely grey owl turned her head quickly at the sound of Roarke coming in, and flew over to her to land on her outstretched arm.

"Hello, my lovely bunny," she cooed at the owl, "how is my lovely sweetie today?" Boinn hopped across Roarke's arm to settle on her shoulder so she could bend down and nibble at Roarke's cheek for a moment, then settled against her head with a soft grunting sound. Malcolm had always shared Boinn with Roarke, as Roarke didn't really want an owl when she went to Hogwarts. In fact, she never did get a pet of her own. When she was eleven she had really wished she could bring Bessie with her to Hogwarts, but dogs were not allowed as familiars. The only pet she ever really wanted was a cat, but she knew how much her father hated them, so she never asked for one. Malcolm had told her, once she confessed this to him, that of course mum and dad would get her a cat if she truly wanted one, but she firmly refused to ask. Roarke knew how Sirius' cats watched Remus with suspicious stares whenever he stepped into a room they were in, and couldn't bear the idea of a pet who was terrified of Remus, simply because of who he was.

Roarke smiled as she reached up one hand to sritch at the owl's neck happily, still cooing at her, as her other hand reached to take the note Boinn had for her. The owl snuggled closer and pressed her warm side against Roarke's face, making her give a small sneeze as Boinn gave her feathers a happy little rustle. 

"Sweetie, please don't do that; it does tickle!" giggled Roarke. She had a momentary mental image of Malcolm pretending to look horrified as he insisted this 'nonsense talk' from his '**sensible** sister' directed as his 'dignified pet' stop at once. Roarke turned to Boinn and asked 'if shnookums would like an owl treat' while she summoned the jar holding the treats to her. Then with a sigh, she looked at Malcolm's note. _Let me just guess what this is._

Firecracker-

I've been asked to work late tonight. I know, I'm terrible, the world's worst brother, and a total heel. But be that as it may, I still won't make dinner with you. My heart is breaking, and lord knows my stomach is livid with me. Parkinson asked for me to stay. If it were anyone else, you know I'd tell them to just sod off. But I know you understand why I can't do that, however tempting, with the charming, eloquent, and oh-so-understanding Parkinson. Not until I find another job, at least. Forgive me, and I'll come see you as soon as I can.

Much love-

Malcolm

Well, that does it. Even my own brother can't keep a simple dinner date with me. Bloody Ministry and bloody, **evil**, Parkinson; that bigoted ass. Roarke moved to sit on the couch and coaxed Boinn down onto the sofa next to her. The owl sat on a cushion and blinked at her.

"Well, Boinn, it's just you and me. You stay here, as that nasty man who claims to love you so much won't be home to give you a proper dinner."

Boinn blinked a few times, and then leaned over to give Roarke one more nibble before she tucked her head under her wing and went to sleep. 

"Oh, just perfect," mumbled Roarke. She stood up carefully so she wouldn't jostle the owl and wandered into her small kitchen. She looked blankly at the pasta she was going to prepare for her and Malcolm and then turned back to wander back into the sitting room, unwilling to bother with it now. She considered Apparating home to Exeter to have dinner with her sister and her parents for a moment, but decided she didn't feel up to it. She wanted to talk to Malcolm about things, and Annie was no substitute for her brother's calm sensibility and heartfelt advice, though she was excellent company. _Most of the time; she's a little broody for me at the moment. And if Dad asks one more time if I've decided what to do with myself, however sweetly, I shall scream._

Roarke stood in front of the fire contemplating who she should contact to see about having dinner with when she heard a tapping at her window. She quickly went over to let in a large and rather dour looking eagle owl. She chuckled a bit, thinking of Professor Malfoy, then took the note the unknown bird handed to her before it sailed back out of the window without waiting for payment. _Private owl? I've never seen it before…_

Roarke opened the scroll and read the contents with a small frown.

Dear Miss Lupin;

I do so hope this finds you in most excellent health. 

I am aware that you have already politely declined to accept a position as a Curse Breaker with Gringotts. However, as you are no doubt aware, Gringotts only offers such positions as they are available to those two individuals who score the top marks on the Charms N.E.W.T.s in any given year, provided their previous work is also of an acceptable nature. This makes our pool of acceptable individuals extremely limited, but considering the nature of the work, it is necessary. We would like to ask you, with deepest respect, to reconsider your original denunciation of our request.

In consideration of your reticence, we would like to ask you to consider, prior to accepting any permanent position, a temporary position with us to address a particular problem we feel an individual of your formidable skills would be most qualified in dealing with.

Witches of your talents in this area are extremely rare, as I am sure you are cognisant of. We are aware that the English Quidditch League is actively seeking your participation, but as the season will not start for several months, perhaps we will be able to convince you to accept our offer of a temporary assignment so as to provide you an option, should you wish it, to continuing your illustrious career as a Beater. 

Please, contact me at your convenience and allow me the opportunity to speak with you in person, before you refuse our offer again. I would be most, most grateful.

With respect - 

__

Slipnod 

Roarke stood with the note for a while, wondering if it might simply be a joke. Goblins were vengeful by nature, and to the best of her knowledge never re-offered any position that had been refused. Her original offer from Gringotts had come from a different goblin, but perhaps it wasn't so odd that it was another who was re-extending the offer they had made to her a few days after her graduation from Hogwarts. While Roarke had easily refused the offer at that time, she was now surprised to find herself intrigued by this offer.

__

Perhaps…perhaps a temporary job wouldn't be so bad. Then I can really see what it's about. Bill Weasley was wonderful to talk to me about it, but I really didn't want it. Now…now I don't know. I don't know what I want to do…. I suppose there's no harm in simply speaking with this Slipnod to find out exactly what he needs.

She was spared thinking about it further by a 'pop' coming from her fireplace and a loud yell coming from the head of Tarquin Noyes.

"GRYFFINDOR BANG-UP AT THE CHESHIRE CHEESE! GET OVER HERE, LUPIN!" 

Roarke laughed and went over to kneel in front of the fire and grin at the rather red face of her former house captain, absently tossing the note from Slipnod on the table.

"Hello, gorgeous," he said in a sing-song and slightly sloshy voice, as Roarke came into his view.

"Hello yourself, _sexy_. What are you up to then?"

"With the exception of your perfect, dreamy, self, I have the _entire_ team from my last year here. Get in the fire, girl, so we can celebrate, once again, our _flattening_ Slytherin and the look on Snape's face for the rest of the year." Tarquin gave an amused chortle even as he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"What, again? We did beat them without you, you know. Besides, it sounds like you started long before you thought to invite _me_," said Roarke in a teasing, dry voice.

"Rubbish. You've been OUT haven't you? I've been trying to get you for a good hour. You won't believe how many 'not here' charms I've had to cast to keep the Muggles from calling the police about some loony screaming into the fire. And I thought Boinn was going to sail through the fireplace and claw my eyes out if I interrupted her sleep once more, as I could dis_tinctly_ hear her crabby old mumbling coming from the room. I still love her, bless her. Now, get over here so I can show these Muggles what a **real** girl looks like."

"Tarquin, it's nice to hear you're as eloquent and charming as always."

"Roarke, I can charm the feathers off of a Hippogriff if I've the mind to; stop making me look bad and get over here."

"Well get out of my fire and I can do just that," chuckled Roarke.

***

As Roarke Lupin changed into a set of Muggle clothes and took herself to the Cheshire Cheese, Sirius Black trotted up the main staircase of the Ministry of Magic, pondering what Billy Stockwell had told him and Remus that morning. He made his way quickly through the offices towards the entrance to the Minister's private apartments. Katie's scones, laced carefully with a memory restoration potion, had worked brilliantly. Billy easily recalled the events of the 'insane midget' incident outside of the Leakey Cauldron despite the Memory Charm the Ministry gave him, and without the Memory Charm actually breaking to alert the casters that something was up. _Brilliant girl. Glad you're on our side._

But there really wasn't much else to learn from what they already knew, except for the small sketch Sirius had tucked away in his robes, although he wasn't sure what it really would mean in all of this. He gave a smile to the Minister's Secretary, who returned the look and silently stood to let Sirius into the Minister's apartments by lowering the wards on the door.

"Dexter?" called Sirius, not seeing anyone as he came in.

"Down here, Sirius," came the Minister of Magic's voice from the depths of the rooms. Sirius wandered down the dim hallways until he came into a large den the Minister used for private meetings. Several owls lined the wall next to the window, all looking very bored but important, and they turned as one to watch Sirius as he moved through the shadows to the fire. Dexter Tanner, the 146th Minister of Magic, sat slumped in a chair with a large martini, staring into the flames of the fire that lit the room.

"Lovely day, Dex?" asked Sirius as he sat down across from the Minister, smiling at the house elf who appeared out of nowhere to offer him a scotch with ice, his preferred drink.

Tanner gave a grunt and took a sip of his own drink before looking over at Sirius with a smile.

"How did I get this job again?" he asked.

"By being too damn respectable," replied Sirius happily. 

"Oh yes, I'd forgotten. Well, how was your meeting with Mr. Stockwell?"

Sirius sighed and shook his head. "Dex, I hate to say this…"

"But you didn't learn anything we didn't know. I thought that was what was going to happen."

"Well, we did get one thing your goons seemed to have missed, but I'm not sure what it means."

Dexter sat up and leaned towards Sirius with a hopeful look. "Sirius, in about one minute the Chief of Gringotts is going to be here to ask if we've had any luck in dealing with this situation. I would be grateful for _anything_ we could tell him. Have you met Kentvicks?"

"No, actually."

"Consider yourself lucky. Now, what have you got?"

Sirius took the small piece of parchment he'd brought with him out of his pocket and laid it on the table in between himself and the Minister. Dexter leaned farther forward to peer at it, and then looked back up at Sirius with a dejected look.

"This says what?"

"I've no idea. But the Muggle says it made him feel odd."

"But it's just a…."

At that moment, the door to the room opened again and Sirius stood up along with Dexter as a rather old and decidedly nasty looking goblin marched into the room and came to a halt a few metres from them.

Dexter gave his most political smile and stepped forward.

"Kentvicks, thank you for coming."

The goblin gave a sneer and then looked at Sirius darkly.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"Kentvicks, this is Mr. Si…."

"Sirius Black, yes I know exactly who he is. Substantial deposit but wastes his life squandering it on odd ventures. No business sense, though I suppose that Azkaban is to blame for his eccentricities. I pray his son has more sagacity to him, should anything remain of Mr. Black's account for the young man to inherit when the time comes, and then we can put the money to better use."

Sirius smiled through clenched teeth at the little old goblin and sat back down. Dexter waved Kentvicks forward, but he refused to move and hissed at the house elf who tried to offer him a drink.

"Mr. Black," continued the Minister of Magic, giving a tense smile, "has been speaking with Billy Stockwell to try and ascertain if there is some detail of Friday's incident that may have been missed…."

"Oh," said Kentvicks slyly, "are your Enforcement Wizards unable to perform such a simple task as questioning a _Muggle_?"

"Mr. Black," continued Dexter in overly polite tones, "is an expert in evaluating unique situations."

Kentvicks gave an unpleasant laugh, then glared at Dexter Tanner. "Now you understand one thing, Tanner," he growled. "This is serious. I don't care how many old school mates you try to drag into solve it, but I expect the Ministry to get it settled as they promised, or _we_ will deal with it."

Dexter lost a little colour, but kept up his smile. "Kentvicks, I assure you that the Ministry will honour its commitments to Gringotts, and this unpleasantness will be dealt with forthwith."

Kentvicks gave a snort and turned to leave. He stopped at the door and faced Tanner again, this time with a darkly unpleasant look.

"Tanner, my patience is wearing thin. This cannot go on. Should the Ministry fail to resolve the situation in an acceptable timeframe, I shall have no choice but to close Gringotts until the matter is settled to _our_ satisfaction. Explain that one, you incompetent buffoon. You are costing me more money each day than you will see in a lifetime. I will expect a full restitution from the Ministry on this, or we shall be driven to alter our rates yet again." He paused for moment, then looked at Sirius.

"And you: 'Malicious Mischief' is a very serious charge. I am quite aware that it is in your and Tanner's tame werewolf's hands to speak with our _good comrades_ on the Continent. I will be forced to take action in an _effective_ manner should your little legal platitudes fail. Remember that gentlemen, and good night."

The door slammed behind him, and Sirius and Dexter sat in silence for a long minute, listening to the sound of Kentvicks' retreating feet. Another door slammed, then Dexter looked over at Sirius.

"Does he mean what I think he means?" asked Sirius carefully.

Dexter nodded dejectedly. "He's already 'interviewing' if you can call it that. Can you just see the scene now? What a way to be kicked out of office; responsible for forcing Gringotts to close, and trolls to be loosed on Diagon Alley and other parts currently unknown. Dear gods."

Sirius looked at Dexter as he rubbed his eyes, then said softly, "Dexter? You do realise what else is probably happening?"

"Gods yes. Another run on Gringotts, and yet one more _bloody_ goblin rebellion. At least Professor Binns will be happy."


	4. Down the Glen Tramp Little Men

Chapter Three: Down the Glen Tramp Little Men

__

In which we learn a little more about the Goblins' history, propensity for mischief, and talent for troll manipulation. Roarke tells Remus about her job offer, we see the inside of that blasted Werewolf registry, and Malcolm and Draco make a trip to Knockturn Alley

__

See the little goblin,

See his tiny feet;

And his little nosy-wose,

Isn't the goblin sweet?

Blackadder II: 'Beer' (Richard Curtis & Ben Elton)

***

"Next!"

A little figure hunched over a tall writing desk, scribbling loudly on a large ledger. As soon as a word was completed, it faded quickly and sank into the parchment, remaining visible only long enough for the author to keep their place on the page. Anyone trying to follow the words would have been hindered in any event by the simple fact that the only light in the room came from two candles on large, gaudy floor stands. These were situated on either side of the desk, and burned in feeble, rather half-hearted attempts to illuminate the room.

The scribbling figure didn't bother to look up as he heard the door open and several loud shuffling and dragging noises alerted him to the fact that his next appointment had in fact arrived. He finished what he was doing, then placed his quill quietly back in his inkpot before he sat back on his stool and looked up.

After four hours at this particular exercise, it was quite simple to state that the trolls were getting nastier and more annoying with each passing minute. The seated figure wrinkled his nose in disgust as he looked at the two new trolls who had been brought in as they gazed stupidly around the room, their pale eyes flat and their mouths hanging slightly open. After a moment he leaned forward to peer over the desk and glared down into the rather expectant face of a particularly dull looking goblin.

"Well, well, well. After what happened last time, I'm rather surprised to see you back with us."

The fat and greasy little goblin at the foot of the desk gave an apologetic sounding half-laugh, even as he twisted his hands nervously. He forced himself to smile up at the seated figure.

"Yes, well, I think you will be far more satisfied this time."

"Will I indeed? How did you get an appointment?"

The fat little goblin opened his mouth quickly, but decided not to say anything, and instead gave the other a dark grin.

"These are much better than the last two, I promise."

"Hardly a stretch," mumbled the interviewer, but he did settle back to look at the trolls again. "Well, can we at least control these? We have enough problems…"

"Yes, yes; these are far more responsive," came a voice, and then the fat goblin moved into view as he stepped away from the desk and walked back towards the hulking and rather foul smelling trolls. They stopped gazing into space to look down at him slowly.

"Arms up!" cried the fat goblin.

The trolls seemed to take a long moment to process this request, then slowly raised their arms over their heads. The interviewer gave a satisfied _humph_, then reached for his quill again.

"Your training seems to have improved," remarked the seated figure dryly, "These seem to be able to recognise speech." He nodded thoughtfully, considering the trolls, even as he grimaced when the larger of the two trolls gave a "_sneeeerk"_ rather loudly in an attempt to clear its nose, which continued to drip slowly despite his efforts.

"_Wizard _trained. Ex-security," said the fat goblin with sly delight. "So you see."

The eyes of the other glinted happily and he gave a decidedly nasty grin.

"Are they bonded _properly _this time, Bowsaks?" he bent down over his ledger at this and started to write quickly again.

"They know who feeds them."

"Very well. Thank you; you may leave them."

The fat and greasy goblin hopped forward with obvious excitement, and reached up to accept a small purse from the figure at the desk. He jingled it happily, and then opened it to peer inside for a second, before tucking it inside his coat.

"Thank you, Slipnod. You won't regret it!"

"I had better not, Bowsaks. I know where you reside. And do tell them to put their arms down as you leave, please."

***

Remus Lupin walked quickly along a small alley behind the Palace of Westminster, across the river from the Ministry of Magic. He watched various Muggle civil servants sulking past him, and saw a small band of what appeared to be House Members racing towards the Members' entry, obviously late for a vote in that morning's session, and probably desperate to have the holiday break declared. Nobody gave him a second glance.

Remus reached a small niche at the very back of the Palace and tapped the wall with his wand, muttering an opening spell. A rather tiny door appeared, and Remus quickly moved inside the dim, dank old passageway behind it. He hurried down the corridor, anxious to get this errand over with. Remus reached the section of the subterranean corridor the Muggles were certain they had bricked up after Guy Fawkes was cornered in it trying to bring the government to a rather explosive end. The wizards had cleared it out again almost immediately, as they had any number of uses for it, but made certain it was protected properly as a favour to the then King, who was a 'bit of a duffer', according to a contemporary letter from the then Grand High Mugwump of the Council, 'but harmless'. Remus taped the bricks here in a pattern well known since he was very small, and walked through the archway that opened.

There was a small room with a single old battered table that held an assortment of small objects. Remus picked up an inkpot and felt the Portkey deposit him in a small, deserted looking room deep inside the Ministry of Magic. Remus placed the inkpot down on another small old table, and walked forward through the single door in the room, only glancing for a moment at the familiar plaque on the wall.

DEPARTMENT FOR THE REGULATION AND 

CONTROL OF MAGICAL CREATURES

š BEAST DIVISION › 

Werewolf Capture Unit

Werewolf Registry

The door opened into a rather small windowless corridor, with only two doors opposite each other at the far end. Remus quickly walked to the end of the passage and went into the door on his right. The only piece of furniture in the office was an immaculate desk holding an ink blotter, an inkpot, and a large black quill. _Well, Mr. Williams doesn't really need much else, does he?_

"Mr. Williams?" Remus called out.

"Hello, Mr. Lupin," came a thin, raspy voice after a short moment.

"Good morning, Mr. Williams; how are you?"

"I am as I always am, thank you. And yourself?"

"Still breathing," said Remus with a small laugh, as the pale ghost of a very tall and regal looking man in an elegant Victorian frockcoat and high collared shirt stepped through the wall behind the solitary desk, and gave Remus a wispy smile. 

"Well, someone must," Mr. Williams replied, "you look well, so should remain breathing for quite a while yet, I am sure."

"Provided I never do anything to provoke your colleagues across the hall."

Mr. Williams' cast a short glance over Remus' shoulder at the door and his smile broadened a bit. "I shouldn't worry about them too much, Mr. Lupin. They tend to capture far more C_anis familiaris _than _Canis lupus_, thanks to the living's continued propensity for paranoia and their own rather questionable talents. Muggle dogcatchers across the island have no idea how indebted they are to those three. Now, I believe you are here for a copy of your registration and history, yes?"

"Yes. I'm to travel abroad on official business, so I need a visa."

Mr. Williams glided back through the wall.

"What I find particularly amusing about this practice," his voice echoed eerily from the hidden room, "is that they all know full well that you can come and go as you please; so, why all this paperwork?"

"Politics, manners? Issues of trust between governments, I suspect."

Mr. Williams came back and looked at Remus over his spectacles. "I've a new wolf who is originally from Australia. I will respond to your observations by borrowing his rather colourful phase of 'Poncy Crapo", as I find it amusing and rather accurate."

Remus felt himself shudder a bit. "New wolf?"

"Yes," drawled Mr. Williams casually as he bent down to write something on the papers he had carried out. "We are still trying to determine who is responsible. That brings the current total to 332 throughout the United Kingdom and Ireland. At least, the total of 'official' werewolves," said Mr. Williams, rolling his eyes as he straightened back up. "As to those who are so inconsiderate as to fail to complete the required paperwork, I can make no comment."

Remus chuckled as he accepted the papers he needed from Mr. Williams, even as he felt a sense of pain and loss for the young man. Mr. Williams gave him a kind smile and shook his head slightly.

"Do not worry, Mr. Lupin; the young wizard in question is quite alright, and has been in our care since the onset of his condition. He has plenty of Wolfsbane Potion and the support of the Crowdens, who are healing him and helping him adjust to his new life. He has a good spirit and doesn't really seem all that daunted by what has happened to him."

"Please, let me know if he ever needs anything, or if I can help in any way."

"I always do. My best to your family, and good day."

Remus returned through the hidden corridors he had come in by, then made his way to The Leaky Cauldron, practically running through the pub in his haste to see his two eldest children. He stepped through the archway, reminding himself that he was, under no circumstances, to once again ask Malcolm if he was still upset over his break up with Storry, express the fact that he had wished Roarke had taken Malcolm up on his offer to come and share his flat when she moved out, or ask Roarke if she had made any decision yet about a career. _Katie threatened to charm the words 'Beware: Frets like a fishwife' on my forehead if I don't just leave it…._

But Remus had always worried about Roarke a little more than the other two, and couldn't help himself. She was so serious most of the time, and so closed compared to Annie and Malcolm. Remus desperately wanted her to play Quidditch professionally, because he knew she truly loved the game and it would guarantee she wouldn't find some isolated job that kept her away from others most of the time, as she was wont to just secret herself away if left on her own. 

A pair of goblins in Gringotts livery pushed past him, hurrying in the direction of the bank. Remus' mind let off fretting over Roarke as he watched them, and wondered instead what on earth he and Sirius were getting into by helping Dexter deal with some 'unpleasantness' concerning the goblins. Gringotts had made a formal accusation of 'Malicious Mischief', which was about as bad as it could get among the goblins.

Per goblin law, the accused was currently serving a 'pre-jail' term, before their actual trial, such as it was, would take place. Sirius had told Remus that this generally involved the individual in question being left in a small dark pit for as long as the goblins felt like it before they bothered to start any questioning. Judging from how cross the Gringotts administrators were over the charge of Malicious Mischief, it was actually lucky for the accused that the Ministry of Magic had got wind of it at all and made inquiries, or it was quite likely that the pit would be the last thing the fellow saw for several decades. The goblins had grudgingly allowed Remus and Sirius to start their proceedings after the New Year, so the accused was 'getting off lightly' by only having served four months in the pit.

Making the situation worse, the Goblin Congress was involved. The only true function of the Congress seemed to be scheming always increasingly malicious means of taking advantage of other goblin tribes and securing their own fortunes. Remus suspected that they were unofficially **delighted** that Gringotts had been so distraught over the situation that they had actually dragged the humans into the argument, however surreptitiously, as it suggested strongly that the goblins didn't trust their own Council enough to deal with it themselves. Unrest and rebellion was _always_ profitable for those who were prepared to properly insinuate themselves into the argument.

The hostilities between goblin tribes had a long and tedious history young witches and wizards had to endure writing numerous excruciatingly dull essays about for history classes. It might have been more interesting if they had any _details_ of the endless list of skirmishes, battles and inventive hexes they were forced to memorise. But the goblins were even more secretive about arguments among themselves than they were about how they conducted their affairs with others; only when the goblins openly squabbled with the wizards were there any interesting insights into how they worked. And even then the goblins had manipulated agreement upon agreement with the Wizard Councils through the centuries not to put too much into their own accounts, or face dire consequences.

Remus found himself humming a rather rude song Lily had made up in their fifth year in a desperate attempt to make it easier for them all to keep that semester's worth of goblin goings-on in order. Remus had actually forgotten it until Sirius taught it to Harry during his own fifth year. Harry had been rather surprised to discover that his mother had had such an _inventive_ vocabulary and talent for double-entendre. He had been a little reluctant to actually commit the ditty to memory until Sirius quite rightly pointed out that Lily would want her legacy to live on in more than the very formal and dignified prose of history books. Malcolm had loved the song so much he had enchanted an inkpot to sing it until Katie unwittingly used the inkpot, as Malcolm had 'carelessly' left it at home when he returned to Hogwarts. Katie would probably have just laughed, had she not used the inkpot in front of some very old, very dignified, and very humourless clients. Remus talked her out of sending the Howler, but only just.

Remus was passing Eeylops when he saw a familiar red head with an equally familiar half scowl across the street.

"Ron!"

Ron turned in Remus' direction, then gave a small smile and came over to meet him in the middle of the alley. 

"Hallo, Remus."

"You look a little strained, Ron."

Ron gave a rather irked 'ha!' Remus knew well, but then shook his head with a grin. "Haven't seen my darling little matched pair of red-headed witches about, have you?"

"No, actually. Gone missing have they?"

"They spent the first three days of the holidays working so hard to get their schoolwork done even Hermione told them to relax. I was starting to worry I'd have two mini-Hermiones on my hands. The good news is that doesn't seem to be the case."

"Dare I ask the bad news?"

"Seems Sallie and Bess were so _eager_ to get their homework done because Uncle George and Uncle Fred told them that as soon as they finished it they could spend the rest of the vacation helping in the shop. I guess I need to give them 'grown up points' for at least making the homework stipulation. Mind you, they probably only did it to try and hide their tracks better. Hermione won't bother any of the kids about anything, really, if their homework is up to date."

Remus grinned dangerously at Ron.

"Hermione find out about this yet?"

"Forget Hermione, they better not tell their grandmother what they're up to. I've just been talking with Mrs. George Weasley back there and it would seem that Sallie and Bess are _most_ welcome in the shop because they are _very _good at coming up with new ideas to appeal to the younger generation and _more_ than willing to test them out on unsuspecting classmates. "

"You must be so proud," chuckled Remus.

"Immensely. Bryson has always firmly refused to do that, much to his father's dismay, and Fred's girls are still to young, though I suspect they'll be eager to join the gang as soon as they are able. I'm actually of a mind to tell my mum exactly what they're up to and let her deal with it. That'll show 'em."

"The uncles or the twins?"

Ron laughed. "Seems they really didn't learn their lesson from the time they tried to surreptitiously involve Charlie's kids in the fun over in Romania by using the Muggle post of all things to send them a few 'ideas' to 'test'. **That** little adventure hasn't deterred them, just made them more careful. George saw me coming and sent them on an 'errand'. If you do happen to spot them before I find them, would you mind telling the little dears I'm looking for them purely for their own good? If they want to help Fred and George, so be it, but we better figure out how to get Hermione to approve of it before she finds out due to a Howler from some enraged parent. Remind them that Hermione confiscates brooms when she's really had it. I am really hoping it's just a phase," sighed Ron.

"Oh, speaking of phases, have you spoken to Gary about…."

"The Yule Ball Incident, as we've taken to calling it? Yes. He feels terrible that Griffin is so cross; Gary asked Annie in a momentary fit of adolescent swooning and fear of going stag it would seem, but as far as he's concerned she's off-limits, I think. At least, until she says otherwise. And seeing that he's been Griffin's partner in crime for the last five years in basically torturing the ever-clueless-or-else-just-frightfully-determined Tobias Greendour, I think he knows what's what." 

Remus smiled even as he shook his head. "Ah, the long-suffering Tobias. That young man doesn't stand a chance, Griffin or no Griffin. Absolutely no sense of humour, poor lad."

"I've never actually had the chance to speak with him, but I always assumed he was scowling when I did see him because he had an eyeful of the Dreadful Duo, fresh from celebrating the end of term by turning the boy into a toad or enchanting his knickers to float into the Great Hall during breakfast again. I just about killed them when they sent Fred and George a toilet seat from the Ravenclaw dorms, you know. I swore I'd never send a Howler, but that was it. Framing Tobias for it was the last straw; I have never been so embarrassed as when I got a letter from Mr. Greendour asking why McGonagall suggested he ask me and Sirius why Tobias had actually received a detention. Little monsters, I swear." 

Remus had to laugh at the mention of that particular highlight of Griffin and Gary's campaign. "Annie thought that was particularly brilliant and daring of them, actually, as she didn't in fact help them in any way. Other than to simply serve as the inspiration for Griffin's jealous ire, of course. And, perhaps, Gary's as well."

Ron nodded even as he shrugged his shoulders. "I think Gary does fancy Annie a bit, but I can only hope he knows better than to push any buttons without thinking them through next time. And he seemed rather put out that Griffin got to go to the ball with this Raven girl."

"Annie wasn't too pleased about that either, actually, but offered no editorialising other than a rather nasty tone of voice when describing her as 'a rather dull thing who'd never be on the house team if Roarke was still at Hogwarts'."

"Hmmm. I understand she's quite a stunner and had told Gary to do something rude to himself when he asked her to the Yule Ball himself. Before he asked Annie, of course. Not a bad second, if you ask me," Ron grinned, still scanning the street for two curly red heads trying to sneak past him.

"So you think Annie was an ego boost he didn't think through?"

"Sounds like it. You know he adores Griffin and would never do anything to hurt him or upset him willingly. Overlooking the fact that they did in fact get detentions for cursing each other in the Great Hall over breakfast when Griffin found out what he'd done. I can just see the smug and delighted look on Snape's face when he was dealing with _that_. Hopefully, this will pass soon, though he's scared to contact Griffin. He does, however, run to meet any owls who come to the house, obviously hoping for a note."

"According to Sirius The Boy is wallowing in self-loathing at the moment, more for being a fool and making assumptions he shouldn't have been making, and not at Gary for doing what Gary jolly well had a right to do. He'll come round by Christmas itself, I'm sure of it. Annie is actually having dinner with Griffin tonight, it would seem. There's some Muggle movie they want to see and planned on going to months ago, and Annie shot him off a note that he had better get his 'cranky, silly head out of his arse and meet her at the theatre'."

Ron laughed again. "Sure Sirius didn't write that note for her?"

"No, I witnessed her mother asking her in a rather amused tone if she thought that was _quite_ the wording she was looking for, but Annie simply handed the note to her owl and stormed out of the room without another word."

Ron shook Remus' hand, as he moved to leave.

"Remus, we'll all survive this, no matter what happens. Give my best to Katie, and I'll see all of you on Christmas."

"My love to Hermione as well. Good day."

Ron and Remus continued on in opposite directions. Remus finally caught sight of Malcolm and Roarke taking advantage of the clear weather to sit outside in front of 'the Magical Menu'. He waved as he caught Malcolm's eye, and came onto the patio to join them.

"You're late! I'm shocked!" Malcolm greeted him, grinning rather slyly.

"I ran into Ron Weasley back there and we got to talking. Hello, Firecracker," smiled Remus as he embraced Roarke and gave her a kiss on the forehead, as she stood up to greet him.

"Hi, dad," she said in a rather tired voice. Remus pulled back to look at her closely.

"Roarke? Do you feel…."

"Fine," said Roarke before he could finish

"Hangover," input Malcolm loudly over her, reaching over to give a small tug on her bangs when she turned to glare at him as she sat back down. "Lazy thing was still in bed when I got there to pick her up."

"You can take something for that, you know…."

"Yes, dad. I've ordered it," said Roarke, leaning back to give a small stretch and rub her eyes again. She did smile at Remus when she looked back him. "They're just taking their time bringing it. We only just got here ourselves because…."

"Someone was _sleeping in_," put in Malcolm.

"Because _someone_ simply _had_ to run into the magical supplies shop!" replied Roarke.

"Someone wouldn't have had to if someone else hadn't so successfully destroyed someone's…."

"Yes, thank you Malcolm, I really don't think Daddy came all this way to listen to this _fascinating_ conversation."

"Well," grinned Malcolm, leaning forward on the table to stage whisper at Roarke, "you know that mum says he has a bad habit of sitting around staring into space sometimes wondering what we're up to? I thought we should show him exactly what our typical conservations are like so he won't feel so left out."

Remus laughed at them both, even as they pulled faces at one another and started laughing themselves.

"Well," started Roarke, "now that your darling boy has proven that Auror training still doesn't include any lessons on improved deportment or the like, maybe he can shut up so we can talk about something more interesting than my sleeping habits."

Malcolm looked like the cat that ate the cream as he said, "Why yes, excellent idea. So Sis, are you going to tell Dad about that job offer you got yesterday?"

Remus managed to bite his tongue and not say anything, but he hoped the rather delighted and admittedly pleading look wasn't too evident on his face as he stared at Roarke. He might have got away with it had he not leaned forward ever so slightly, which was immediately noted. Luckily, Roarke smiled widely at him.

"Actually, it's rather interesting. I've been offered a job, yes, but in fact what I've been asked to do first is to work on a temporary project. If I end up enjoying what I'm doing, and my work is up to snuff, I'll have a full time job at the end of it."

"Oh, Roarke, that sounds perfect. Who is this with?"

"Here's the kicker. Are you ready for this? Gringotts."

Remus blinked at her in surprise, wondering if he'd heard her correctly. _But, she refused their job. They never…._

"My god, Sis, I think you've stunned him. Now at least mum won't have to listen to him fretting."

Remus looked over at Malcolm at that comment and gave a small frown.

"Honestly, Malcolm, I do not sit huddled in my study all day wracked with worry. Your mother is being over-dramatic."

"OUR mother?" cried both the children at once, "Heaven forbid!" 

The outcry was brought to a halt by the hesitant approach of the waiter. He solemnly put a large drink in front of Roarke and asked if they were ready to order. As Remus, Malcolm and Roarke were all giggling to hard to respond, they simply shook their heads, and he told them he'd return shortly with a rather disapproving look on his face.

"Right," said Remus, once he managed to speak again in normal tones, "Roarke, that's wonderful, but…well. It's very _unusual_. I wonder what they want from you?"

Malcolm gave him a bit of a look. "Dad! A bit more enthusiasm here! Your daughter has most likely become the first person in more than 500 years to have a job re-offered to them by the goblins! I'm bragging about her to all my friends!"

"I'm very pleased, my Little Marauder, I just…well the timing is interesting. That's all."

"Why?" asked Roarke.

Remus hesitated. He was not at liberty to discuss anything concerning what he and Sirius were doing, but he was starting to worry a bit as to why Gringotts now felt it important enough to try once again to hire Roarke. _Of course, it could be nothing at all. Curse breakers are hard to come by. At least ones that meet the goblins' standards. And I can't lie to my children…._

"Roarke, are you going to talk to them about this temporary job?"

"Yes, I don't see why not."

"Will you promise me that as soon as you do, you'll come and talk to me about it before you agree to anything? Sirius is working on a case now involving a goblin and some trouble he's gotten into with Gringotts," said Remus quietly so only the children could hear him once they leaned forwards. 

"Sirius is in trouble with Gringotts?" said Malcolm, sounding surprised.

"No, no; the goblin is; sorry I wasn't clear. Look, it may be nothing. Goodness knows this is always happening. But for some reason they asked Dexter to get involved in it this time, _quietly_. So he asked Sirius and I to look into it all. If there is something big brewing again…."

"Dad, " started Roarke, sounding a little miffed. Remus reached to grab her hand and gave a squeeze to stop her.

"Firecracker, I _know_ you can take care of yourself. Just please be careful. Deal?"

"Deal," she said rather grumpily. "And who's busy telling _you_ to be careful?"

"Jarvey," teased Malcolm.

"Lockheart," she shot back. Malcolm feigned a chest wound and sat back in his seat.

"Now that that's settled, let's eat. I'm due to meet Draco after this as he's helping me with a little something for work and I can't sit around all day. Waiter!"

***

Draco Malfoy glared at the ornate door in front of him and impatiently drummed his fingers on the stone counter-top, but still he waited. _WHAT are they doing back there?_

"Hello?" called out Draco, hoping that didn't sound _quite_ as ill tempered as it seemed. If he made the goblins cross, they would make him wait longer out of spite, no matter how much money they managed for him. Draco actually bit the inside of his cheek to stop from saying anything further. 

After a few more agonisingly slow minutes, the door opened at last and the goblin that had been assisting him came in with a dark scowl.

"Master Malfoy," he began, "your request will take us a little time to consider."

"Dare I ask _why_?"

"Because as you know full well, Sir, it seems to defy several codicils from your father's will concerning the use of the family funds, and you are not yet of age."

"You do _realise_, Farcourt, that I have been the head of the household for over 15 years?"

The goblin gave an oily and nasty smile, even as it cast its eyes briefly at the floor in an act of admission and acknowledgement. "Be that as it may, Master Malfoy, you are aware that legacy clauses remain tantamount in situations such as yours while either of your parents remains alive. We would require your mother's express permission to…."

"Fine. If you require the Lady Malfoy's 'express permission' you shall have it. I shall tell her to come all the way down here to speak with **you** personally about the matter, shall I?"

That seemed to have the desired effect of making the goblin look a little less smug.

"A written note would suffice."

"And be infinitely preferable, I am sure."

There was a long pause. Finally Draco picked up his cloak, and as he swept it gracefully over his shoulders and turned for the door with a quick and poised motion, he offered up one last comment.

"It will be necessary for me to disclose to the Lady Malfoy _exactly_ what I am intending to do, of course, and although it is no business of yours, I can assure you that she is going to be very, very displeased when she hears of it. However, while you may remain, for a few more years at least, in a circumstance to deny me my position as head of the house, she does _not_ share that luxury, and will in fact come here post haste to see that my wishes are met." Draco stopped at the door and turned slowly, holding his head in such a fashion that he was certain Farcourt could clearly see his eyes. 

"You will be most unhappy to see her, I suspect. If, before I speak to her on this matter, you somehow see fit to read those codicils in greater detail in order to ascertain if this will not in fact be necessary, you may contact me. I will be at the Manor until the new school term begins. However, once I have returned to Hogwarts, obviously it will then be necessary for me to have my mother see to all of this, so there you are. A very good day, Farcourt."

Draco left Farcourt's office and made his way back to the main entry hall of Gringotts. As he crossed for the entrance, he smiled at a few people he knew, and greeted two of his second year Hufflepuffs who were obviously collecting some funds to do their Christmas shopping. Reminding himself he was not cross with them, he stopped and smiled and answered a question one of them asked hesitantly about the topic he had assigned for holiday reading. After clarifying the assignment, which caused them both to look very relieved, he said goodbye and left the bank to find Malcolm Lupin. _They thought I wanted them to read 200 pages over the holidays? Who do they think I am, Snape?_

Draco walked up towards the far end of Diagon Alley, keeping an eye out for Malcolm. As he had said he would be, he was standing in front of Ollivander's, reading the paper. Malcolm glanced up as Draco approached, and tucked the paper away in his robes. Draco smiled at the young man, and marvelled how he still had the look of the little boy Draco had befriended all of those years ago. Malcolm still wore his dark hair quite short, although his bangs were gone and he brushed all of his hair back away from his face. While he had taken on the angular qualities of his father's features, he was still, without question, his mother's son. And although at five feet nine Malcolm was considerably taller than the average four year old, Draco laughed to himself, his brown eyes still had a look of mischief to them hidden just under the deep curiosity and warmth they had always held, no matter what was happening.

"Draco! Thanks for coming. How are you?"

Draco shook Malcolm's hand and sighed. "I've just been to Gringotts to discuss my current…project."

Malcolm's eyes twinkled even as he moved to lead them farther up the street.

"How is the 'Project'? Is the 'Project' well?"

"Never better, thank you. Restorations have been completed on nearly half of the house, if you can believe it."

"Look good?"

"Of course; it is the finest workmanship available, you know that," laughed Draco.

"And how are your good artist and the Lady Malfoy getting on?"

"Quite well, actually. The Lady Malfoy, despite her earlier protests and feigned outrage over the situation, has grudgingly admitted she is one of the finest artists she has ever seen. You can imagine what that did to her."

"Well she _is_ one of the finest artists of your generation. I would expect the Malfoys to settle for nothing less."

"Oh would you? And the Lady Malfoy has no idea as to exactly what is to come next, I can assure you. That will be a most interesting evening, although in a fair fight I'll still put my money on the project. You must come and see what she's done in the library. I had asked her if she wouldn't mind painting a portrait of Charles and Elvira…."

"Why you sentimental old bat!" said Malcolm, laughing.

"Yes, well, she in fact decorated the entire library with a griffin motif, featuring a large fresco of the two over the fire. It's…."

"Lovely?"

"One should say so, yes."

"Did the goblins give you grief over accessing such a large amount of funds before you're 45?"

"Yes. I threatened to send my mother in there to deal with it all," Draco kept talking over Malcolm's burst of laughter, "It is no concern of theirs that I intend to set up the future Mrs. Malfoy with her own place of business."

"And even less as to who the future Mrs. Malfoy **is**, I suspect."

"Still top of the class, Mr. Lupin," said Draco, dryly.

"Thank you, Professor Malfoy. Shall we?"

Draco and Malcolm walked into Knockturn Alley and quietly made their way down the dark and crooked little street towards a large shop at the far end. They stopped just short of reaching the store and Malcolm took a small box out of his cloak.

"This is the little gem in question. Figuratively speaking, of course. It's tin, we know that, and a rune talisman is hardly unique. But the fact that a Muggle reacted so strongly to it is what's puzzling me. I appreciate your offering to take advantage of your family's past to look into this. They'd never be so forthcoming to me. Well, not at _first_; but I seem to remember this very good DADA teacher I had who warned me repeatedly that compelling answers can leave dangerous trails."

Draco took the box and glanced briefly inside as he said casually, "Well I've always said your father was one of the finest educators I ever knew. Come on."

Draco and Malcolm entered Borgin and Burkes quietly, the only sound in the room the tinkling of the small bell over the door and their boot falls on the uneven old wooden floor. Draco noted with some irony and a little unease that despite the efforts of the Ministry after the last war with Voldemort the shop was still filled in every corner with any number of unpleasant and dangerous items. _I'll bet anything there are still any number of father's things in here somewhere._

They stepped up to the counter and rang the small bell there. Draco watched Malcolm glancing with a slight frown at the objects in the glass case he stood next to, knowing that the young man must recognise several illegal items. Draco caught sight of a withered old hand lying on a velvet cushion and had an odd feeling, like a vague memory, when an old woman appeared from behind the curtain at the back of the shop.

The old witch approached them slowly, giving them a careful glance. She studied Malcolm first with her rheumy eyes, her haggard face scowling as she carefully studied him. If she did not remember him, she was committing his face to memory for later, Draco knew. Most dark witches and wizards always found it in their best interest never to forget a face. He waited for her to turn to him. As she stepped up to the counter, she finally did look at him. It took her a moment, then her eyes widened in surprise and to Draco's disgust, she actually smiled.

"Why, Master Draco isn't it?"

Draco gave a cold smile.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, "I cannot offer the same courtesy, Mistress…?"

The witch didn't seem to care at all that Draco didn't know who she was. 

"I'm Talitha Borgin, Master Draco; a pleasure."

Draco managed a weak smile, then placed the box he had taken from Malcolm on the counter, and opened it to take out the small metal object inside.

"Mistress Borgin, what can you tell me about this object?

She took the talisman and inspected it for a few moments, but instead of answering gave Malcolm a long look. Draco sighed to himself, then gave a small cough. When Mrs. Borgin turned to him he gave her a look he knew she would have seen on his father's face at some point in her life.

"Do you have an issue with my companion, Mistress Borgin?"

She shook her head quickly and bent over the medallion again. Draco gave Malcolm a glance out of the corner of his eye and was amused to see that Malcolm was actually trying not to laugh; it was a look Draco remembered well from Malcolm's school days.

After a few minutes studying the object, Mrs. Borgin laid it down on the counter between herself and Draco, and gave him a rather sickly looking smile.

"It is not my place to ask where Sir acquired this object…." Draco raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing, "however I can tell Sir that he had better be very careful with it. That's a tuath; goblin magic. Death charm."

Draco and Malcolm looked at each other for a moment, then Draco looked back at the old woman carefully. 

"Mistress Borgin, forgive me, but if this is a death charm, why have none of us suffered any severe metabolic setbacks from having handled the object in question?"

She considered this a moment, obviously trying to figure out what Draco had said. He smiled thinly once more.

"Mistress Borgin, no one who has come into contact with this object has_ died_ to the best of my knowledge."

She smiled now. "Ah, well, Sir, have you known any _goblins_ who might have touched it?"

Draco glanced quickly at Malcolm who shook his head very slightly.

"No."

"Well, Sir, it's only meant for the goblins. Only I wouldn't be handling it too much, as it can have some lingering effects on wizards. Best you keep it in that box until you need it. May I," here her eyes narrowed and she got a crafty look Draco didn't like at all, "ask you where you got it, Master Malfoy?"

Draco told her the truth. "It was given to me very recently by an old family friend who knows that I am having difficulties with the goblins." 

"Ah. Well, thank your friend. Take that along to your next meeting with the little bastards and I'm quite sure you won't be having any more difficulties." She smiled at them both in a decidedly nasty fashion.

Draco put the medallion back in its box and bowed slightly to the old witch. She actually blushed a little at this and gave an arthritic curtsy in return.

"Thank you so much for your assistance, Mistress Borgin. And good day."

"Oh, good day Master Malfoy. I'm so glad to have seen you again in here. Please do come back; we haven't all forgotten, you know."

Draco felt cold at that comment, but said nothing further and quickly left the shop, Malcolm at his heels. They said nothing to each other until they had returned to Diagon Alley. Draco stopped, and then handed the box back to Malcolm.

"I hope," he said rather tensely, "that that was what you needed."

Malcolm nodded and smiled quietly. "It was helpful, thank you. You aren't listening to that old cow, are you?"

"Malcolm, you should not speak of your elders in such a fashion. Your mother would be most displeased." Draco said absently, thinking about something.

"I think she'd understand."

Draco now smiled at Malcolm and nodded, then indicated they should continue to walk.

"Come to the Manor for dinner. Mother will be out day after tomorrow, are you free?"

"I should be."

"Good. The 'Project' will be delighted to see you. And of course…." Draco stopped short, and tried to pretend he hadn't said anything. Malcolm heard him though and gave another vague sad smile.

"Storry won't be joining us, thank you."

Draco stopped and looked at Malcolm. "Do you finally feel like talking about it? Well, with me? I know your father is very upset. You do understand that he is only upset…."

"Because he wants us to be happy and hates us to be unhappy, yes I know. But he can't stop that from happening, Draco. No matter how much he cares or how hard he tries. He doesn't seem to get that it just hurts more to see him so worked up!"

Draco nodded. "You and your sisters are his Achilles heel. You always will be; you have no idea Malcolm….what you meant to him and to your mother. What … almost losing you did to them. He'll settle down. But probably not until you fall madly in love again."

"Well I'll just take my time on that, if you people don't mind."

"How on earth should I mind? Here I've just gone 40 and I've only just gotten 'round to proposing, haven't I?"


	5. Die Flight of Die Fleidermaus

Chapter Four: Die Flight Of Die Fleidermaus

__

In which Billy Stockwell finally has a good day, for at least 37 minutes or so, before he becomes part of something nobody would ever believe even if he told them about it.

****

***

ROSALINDE: _Just be patient!_

****

BLIND: _Just patience!_

****

EISENSTEIN:_Instead of the matter being over,_

It's changed for the worse.

_And it's all his fault._

****

BLIND: _Who's at fault?_

****

ROSALINDE:_ His fault? Could it be his fault?_

****

EISENSTEIN:_Yes, it is entirely his fault!_

- Die Fledermaus; Johann Strauss II (1874)

****

***

Billy Stockwell let himself into the shop quietly. As the owners had officially closed up for the week of the Christmas and New Year's holidays, he wasn't surprised that there was nobody else about. But Billy, who had decided not to return home to America for the vacation, had decided to take advantage of the free time and come in to practice his cutting in peace and quiet and without anyone hanging over his shoulder. He hadn't slept well the past week, plagued by odd nightmares he could never seem to remember once he woke up, but which left him feeling very disoriented and uncertain as to even what day it was. Billy needed some quality quiet time, no questions. 

The cutters' main work room was situated in a converted Victorian-era warehouse adjacent to the main store. It came complete with high ceilings, iron scroll work, and heavy, gaudy decoration. The motif of the space happened to be gargoyles and other shady looking things with long teeth, which seemed a bit much even for overly dramatic Victorian artisans. Odd creatures seemed to lean from behind every pillar, hover over every doorway, and lean out of odd nooks and crannies all over the place. Billy found them hideous enough in the daylight when every lamp in the place was illuminated, but now in the limited light of the small area Billy had set up to work in they took on a distinctly ominous appearance. For the boy who had been told repeatedly that he lacked any real imagination, he seemed as of late to be making up for all that 'lost time' what with dreams of buildings with no doorways, lawyers politely feeding him poisoned cookies, and creepy little men with sharp teeth grinning at him in his sleep.

Billy worked quietly for a while, putting the final touches on some small and mid-quality emeralds that had been assigned to his work load. They were turning out nicely, he decided, but just as he removed the last one from the cutter, it seemed to resonate for a moment, then shattered in his hand without warning. Flabbergasted, Billy stood there looking at the remains of the jewel on his fingers and palm, trying to imagine what possibly could have caused that, when he heard the quiet creek of a door opening behind him. He looked up and peered around a pillar to see an unfamiliar young woman of medium build with short dark hair entering the far side of the workroom. She turned to her right and walked with a brisk, graceful motion over to the stairs that led up to the offices on the next level. Billy watched her carefully, wondering why she was dressed in some sort of dark grey robe-thing that made her look like she was an extra from a Star Wars movie. The garment was belted with a black sash tied around her hips, and the v-front showed that underneath the woman had on a plain v-necked white shirt that accentuated the long graceful curve of her neck and her light tan. 

At the top of the stairs she paused for a moment, and then glanced over her shoulder directly at him. Billy couldn't remember the last time he had seen such a beautiful woman, and he openly gaped at her. She didn't appear surprised to see him at all, simply raised an eyebrow slightly and gave a thin amused looking smile. He tried to smile back, and even managed to struggle to his feet, determined to go over and ask her if she needed any help, just to have an excuse to speak to her. But he looked away for a second, and when he turned back, it seemed that she had simply vanished.

Billy stood on the shop floor staring up at the top of the stairs for a long moment. _This is it; you've finally lost it. Now you're having day mares as well. Great. At least **that** was a fantasy worth having, so I guess you could call that an improvement. Damn; she was hot. Probably a remnant of all those fantasies about Princess Leia from when you were, what, 12? I guess I really do need to start getting out more. And next time, moron, try dressing her in that dancing-girl outfit, not Obi-Wan's cast offs._

Sighing, he moved to sit back down, and then froze as he saw the door to the entryway. It was slightly open. Billy knew, he **knew** that he had firmly closed that door when he came in, because there was a draft that came right through that door and went straight for his feet. No matter the temperature in the warehouse, what with the heating and the lamps and the machines, his feet were like ice when that door was open even an inch, and he was **not **cold, and had not felt any cold all afternoon. 

Billy practically ran to the stairs; he wasn't certain if he simply wanted to prove he wasn't going insane, or if he _really_ wanted to meet the mysterious young woman; he simply didn't care. He did hesitate for a moment at the foot of the old spiral iron stairway, and then moved up it slowly enough so as not to make any noise. He wasn't sure why, but he unexpectedly had the idea that he really shouldn't be doing this, but moved on anyway. Once at the top of the stairs he took a deep breath, then leaned around the corner of the archway that led to the hall were the Master Cutter and the other shop heads had their private offices. The reserve lighting gave its usual dim glow over the corridor which was, in another act of questionable Victorian design taste, painted black and decorated with silver murals depicting forests filled with trolls and hags and ravens and any number of other gruesome things from fairy tales, before they had been 'sanitised for your protection' by over-protective adults. 

The light was on in the Master Cutters office, causing the frosted glass door to glow from within. Billy walked as quietly as he could manage towards the office, and flattened himself against the wall next to the door trying to make out the voices inside. He could hear a woman's voice, and the voice of the Master Cutter. There was a third voice as well, low and gravely, that he didn't recognise. It gave him a rather uneasy feeling, but it was the few snatches of the conversation that he could make out that made him start to feel confused and somewhat anxious.

"…these spells, you understand, are very dark…"

"I of course learned extensively about the practice of _tell-gur_ and it's ….killing any number…"

"…new style of spells….goblin magic being what it is…."

"…can be trusted to keep the goblin's secrets, of course…."

"Wizards on the continent…run in with a nest of griffins…."

"…not a…I've experience with griffins…yes, as pets, actually…."

"…runic curses…."

"…hellhounds…."

"…Muggle police is not the issue so much as their Interpol organisation, I suspect…."

"….Would you mind very much casting us a few samples of…."

"…Rowan wood and wolf's hair…."

"…execution is inevitable…."

At that last comment Billy backed away from the door, now starting to feel vaguely panicked. What the hell was going on in that room? And what the hell were they even **talking **about? _Oh my god, what if the Master Cutter belongs to one of those freak cults they always do specials about on Fox?_

He backed away down the hall, backed carefully down the stairs, and then went back over to his work space. He sat there with his head on the desk and his hands over his head for a long while, wondering why he was going crazy. He hadn't done anything too experimental in college; he was too much of a wimp….

"Hello."

Billy couldn't believe his ears. Slowly he raised his hands enough so he could move his head slightly and glance to his left. The strange woman stood there, arms crossed, looking very amused.

"You're real…." He managed to whisper. This caused her to laugh a little and nod.

"Quite real, thank you. You're very lucky, you know; they were too preoccupied to realise you were there."

"I'm sorry?"

"Are you? I'm Roarke. Nice to meet you."

He actually blushed at that and sat up fully now, swivelling his stool to face her.

"Sorry," she continued, "that was rather awful. I'm afraid spending the holidays with my family has had a terrible influence on me."

"No, no…I'm Billy, though, actually…." He stammered to a halt and watched her. She held a hand out to him, which he stood up and shook carefully. Her hands were rather coarse, and her grip very firm. But her eyes were soft and the oddest shade of grey…and for some reason seemed familiar.

"Billy. You should leave with me right now, while they are still busy and haven't cottoned on to the fact that you're in here. Wasn't this place closed for the holidays?"

"Um, yes, but I thought I'd get…."

"Why didn't you go home to America," she interrupted him, even as she leaned over to pick up his bag and coat, handing the coat over even as she waved a hand in the direction of the door.

"I...but…" he wasn't sure at all as to what was going on, but Roarke simply shook her head and took hold of his arm, pulling him to the exit.

"Come on, we'll talk outside. Please, this is really for the best; you can trust me."

Billy simply blinked, then let her lead him outside of the building, watching as she seemed to reach clear across the entry hall to snag what must be her own coat as they walked through the door without breaking a step. It was late afternoon now, and the snow had lessened somewhat, but it was quite cold. He pulled on his coat even as Roarke dropped his bag carefully on the ground so she could wrap a beautiful black velvet cloak around her. Billy finished fastening his buttons when he looked back up and opened his mouth to say something, but the words died in his throat as he watched her give a little flick of her wrist, and his bag literally jumped off of the ground where she had placed it and into her hand.

Roarke looked back up at him, and seeing his expression, gave a small wink.

"Now, Billy, never seen a bit of harmless magic before? I bet you have; but I bet like most Muggles you were too preoccupied to notice what was happening. Shame that, there are all sorts of things to pay attention to in life, you know."

"Magic? As in _'hocus pocus'_?"

"That's actually a Muggle expression based on a religious expression from the 12th century. I can assure you that I could scream _'hocus pocus'_ to my heart's content and absolutely nothing would happen; other than my loosing my voice of course." She smiled at him again, and Billy couldn't have cared less if she **was** a cult member.

"Will you come and have a drink with me?" he blurted out.

Roarke stared at him with a rather amazed expression, and then she started to laugh.

"Sorry! I…I'm very flattered, really. That was simply…rather abrupt, don't you think?"

Billy nodded sadly and stared at his feet for a second, but then looked back up at her and managed a smile.

"Well it was heartfelt. Can't I convince you to explain why I needed to leave? And why I find myself standing here in the snow with a beautiful strange woman who does magic tricks?"

Roarke chuckled quietly. "Hmm. Very charming; I know the type, mate, and I'll tell you right off I've an older brother who has a habit of doing things to boys who make clumsy passes at his sister."

Billy felt himself blush under her direct and still rather amused look, but before he could say anything else, they both heard a muffled banging sound from inside the shop. The young woman immediately dropped his bag on the ground and reached into her cloak, coming back with a…stick…which she held in front of her steadily and moved back towards the front doors.

"Don't tell me, that's a magic wand?"

Roarke turned and put a finger to her lips with a look that silenced any other comments he might make, and he took a few automatic steps backwards. He watched Roarke standing there tense and staring at the wooden panelling in front of her as if she could actually see through it. Slowly she glanced over her shoulder and whispered, not looking at him and leaning a little closer to the door, "Exactly how well do you know your Master Cutter?"

"Wataweet? He's, well…I guess I don't know much….What is going on?"

"I'm trying to figure that out…. Look, you go home. Now. And next time your employer tells you not to come in…."

She didn't finish as they heard another loud noise from inside, followed by what Billy could have sworn was profanity but he couldn't place the language. The tone was unmistakable however and needed no translation. Roarke gave him one last scowl and jerked her head indicating he should clear out, then slipped carefully back inside the building once more. Billy, naturally, went in right behind her. 

There were the sounds of a struggle coming from the direction of the workroom; tables being banged, instruments falling on the floor in loud clatters, and various sundries smashing. There were also odd popping and gushing noises Billy couldn't place, and an odd stench that had nothing to do with the various cleaning solutions and machine coolants they used was seeping through the air. Roarke was crouching low to one side of the entry, watching whatever was happening intently. Billy came up behind her, but wasn't five feet from her when she spun disturbingly quickly and levelled her stick at his chest. Instinctively he froze.

"Are you **trying** to get hurt?" she hissed. "Get the bloody hell out of here right now! Follow me…"

She stood up, and took a step towards him, and then something _huge_ appeared in the doorway. Billy gave an astonished squeak, but it was enough to signal Roarke, and she turned back, this time shouting something. A light came from her wand, and shot like a bolt of red lightening straight into the chest of whatever the thing was in the doorway. It seemed to sneeze, violently, then fell to the ground trembling and making odd gurgling noises. Billy gaped at it even as Roarke stepped around it carefully to peer into the workroom.

"What the hell…" She vanished into the next room. It took Billy a few moments to realise she was gone, and in a rush of panic he followed her, rather than do the logical thing which would have been to have left and spend another sleepless night in bed with the covers over his head. 

The workroom looked like a tornado had gone through it, and whatever had caused the uproar was now upstairs, as more bellowing, screaming and smashing sounds were coming from above. Roarke was now standing at the bottom of the stairs and gave Billy another incredulous look when he ran up panting next to her.

"If you _don't get out of here_ you're going to end up like that troll, or worse!"

"Troll!?! That thing was a **_troll_**?"

"Oh for gods' sake!" 

She turned to him and raised her wand. Before she did anything, though, there was a tremendous crash and Billy watched Wataweet, the Master Cutter, sail out of a window on the second floor and come crashing down on a table. As he flew through the air, three more of the huge beasts came lumbering out onto the landing and struggled to fight past each other to get down the staircase. As the old spiral staircase was of narrow design, only one could fit at a time. While they struggled to figure that out, with much bellowing and more of the odd sneezing noises the one in the entry had made, Billy saw Wataweet struggle to his feet. _This is so not happening…._

Roarke called out his name and told him to stay where he was. His response was to point his own wand at her and send a shower of yellow sparks in her direction. Roarke grabbed Billy and pulled him to the side even as she did something that caused the sparks to fizzle and die a few feet from their faces, but Billy felt a raw heat blow over him as she did this. Wataweet, in the moment she was occupied, yelled something else, causing a fire to appear in front of him. He threw something into the flames, then stepped into them, and vanished.

Roarke gave the still struggling trolls one glance before she went over to the fire, which promptly fizzled and died. She swore heartily and actually stamped the small dark spot where the flames had been, then she said something else and waved her wand. Whatever she was expecting to happen didn't seem to, and Billy heard her actually growl.

At that moment, the trolls figured out how to come single file down the staircase. Billy stood frozen to the spot, watching them draw closer, when he suddenly felt the back of his coat grabbed, and bright green flames seemed to engulf him as he spun wildly into darkness.

****

***

Madame Gully Preportikille's cumbersome, dry and painfully over-intellectualised 63rd revised edition of her definitive text on the biology of Bundimuns was one more unintelligible paragraph from being blasted into pieces small enough for one of the little buggers to feast on for a week. How the woman had ever come up with a theory on how there were political implications from the fact that the pest was actually a perfect example in nature of the perfunctory exactitude by which life sought to balance itself against the real need for reprocessing matter in order to further contemplate the true role of the intellectual mind in the development of civilisation was incomprehensible. And it was also, quite frankly, truly pointless. 

Griffin finally had had enough, after reading the same paragraph for the fourth time and being no further in comprehending what good lady Preportikille was trying to say. He was starting to agree with Gary's opinion that the woman was paid by the word and that there was just something *wrong* with anyone who would publish a 432 page book on Bundimuns in the first place. But the fact was he *still* had to finish both his Care of Magical Creatures paper on the little wretches **_and_** his potions paper on the use of Bundimuns in cleaning solutions. At least Professor Snape's assignment was, as usual, straightforward and reasonably easy to get going. But the simple fact that Professor Tully seemed as enamoured with the 'majestic simplicity' of the animal as Madame Preportikille was made her assignment difficult. To Snape they were disgusting pests whose only use came in making potions. To Tully, they almost seemed to be a persecuted sub-section of wizard society. Griffin gazed out of the window at the light city snow and wondered if the woman had ever filed a motion with the Pest Sub Division requesting amnesty for them. Thanks to the type of cases his father preferred to bring before the court, he had heard of far stranger requests. 

He broke his musing as the clock called out that it was time for him to leave, and Griffin tossed the hated tome onto the couch as he jumped up, apologising to both grumbling cats as he did so. He collected his things and made his way out of the library with both cats still trailing behind him and crabbing about the loss of their heating pad. He stepped into his mother's workroom across the hall before leaving.

"Mum?"

"Hmmm? What is it, Baby?"

"I'm just going to go and meet Gary and Annie. I'll be back…."

"Before midnight," said Liz, raising an eyebrow at him and giving him a look that dared him to challenge her that Sirius had said he could stay out later. Griffin grinned and gave a slow nod.

"Midnight. Right; home before the witching hour turns me into a pumpkin."

"This witch will do you far more than give you the experience of seeing the world from the perspective of a gourd if she has to come looking for you. Again."

"Got it."

"Good. Have fun. And Griffin?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm totally overcome by all the mushy feelings this season brings out in me. Always remember that I love you; very much."

Griffin actually went a little red, but came back into the room on impulse and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. "I never forget that, not for a second. I love you too, Mum."

Griffin got to the front landing, put on an old leather Muggle jacket of Sirius', and turned to yell goodbye to his father before opening the front door. He could just make out Sirius calling back to mind not getting snow all over the front hall again just as he pulled the door open to release a rather large pile of snow onto the stone. Griffin kicked most of it out before stepping out into the street and pulling the door shut with a decidedly loud "What was that? Sorry! See you later!" _Well if I could do proper magic during the holidays I could have cleared that up a **lot** better._

Griffin trotted down the road to the tube station, grinning to himself. He loved taking the London Underground, as the Muggles were the best free entertainment to be had as far as he was concerned. Not that he was the only wizard down there, but most witches and wizards were actually rather terrified at the whole idea of riding some great noisy car under the earth powered by some 'mysterious' Muggle technology. Griffin was quite sure Muggles familiar with wizard transportation were equally horrified by Floo powder.

They had only two more weeks before returning to Hogwarts for the rest of the year. Griffin was already dreading leaving the familiar comfort and odd dotage of his parents more than he usually did; he had a feeling it was going to be a long few months back up there. Nothing further had been said by anyone about his temper tantrum over Gary taking Annie to the Yule Ball, but that silence couldn't last. He and Gary had 'made up' this morning as boys usually do, without saying a word, but with both of them understanding there were no hard feelings. Annie was not going to be so easily placated. She had been a little cool with him, but on such an almost imperceptible scale nobody but himself would have noticed. He was beginning to doubt even he had noticed, and was worried that he was just 'fretting'. His mother's only comment on the entire subject had been that Remus was a wonderful role model for many things, but the fretting was not something Griffin, or anyone, should emulate.

Griffin sat down on one of the train's rather natty looking old seats and casually pulled out yesterday's edition of 'The Daily Prophet', after first double checking that he was the only magical member of his car. Unfolding the paper loudly, and holding it up to hide his grin, he tried to look as casual as possible while still keeping an eye over the top of the page to see when one of the Muggles would notice the large photo of Gringotts on the front was in fact host to any number of figures moving up and down the street in front of the building and entering and exiting the large front doors. Or perhaps they would see the witch on the back page in the advert for some new 'designer robe' shop strutting back and forth with a pouty and vacant look on her face as she swirled the fabric of her rather flimsy garment back and forth.

After about five minutes he saw the enormously fat and nasty looking man across the way do a double take so fast that what was left of his thin blonde hair slipped out of its comb-over. Griffin sank a little lower in his seat so he could completely hide his face as he fought not to laugh. Once he'd regained his composure, Griffin quickly rustled the paper loudly and folded it back up so that it rested on his knee and he was carefully studying the front page, chin in hand. He could feel the eyes of the Muggle, though, and counting off just the right pause he finally glanced up and caught the man's eye. The man jumped a bit, and even seemed to give a small squeak, but stood up before saying anything and waddled off to find another seat as far away from Griffin as possible, for some odd reason walking sideways so that his back was turned away the entire time. 

Griffin shifted his hand so that it now covered his grin. There seemed to be three reactions to this exercise; ignore it and pretend you didn't see what you did, ask Griffin for a closer look (which was actually annoying, because he would then have to beat a hasty retreat at the next stop while chanting 'don't see me' spells that didn't require a wand under his breath and wait for the next train), or move away. Quickly. 

Griffin couldn't help but wonder if the man had really intended to get off at the next stop, but instead decided to actually read the paper as the Underground took him off towards Diagon Alley. He was rather surprised to see that the main article was actually about Gringotts announcing that they were seriously considering changing security measures at the main branch, though they were (as usual) not forthcoming with their reasons. They did make several nasty 'for the record' comments about the talents of the Ministry of Magic's Enforcement Arm, and the intellect of Dexter Tanner, however, but that was customary. Griffin puzzled a bit, and wondered if this didn't have to do with whatever his father and Remus were up to concerning the Goblins. He opened the paper to follow the story onto the next page, and found there a picture of three of the most unattractive looking goblins he had ever seen, and that was saying something. As they sneered at him out of the picture, Griffin read the caption that identified them as the Chief of Gringotts and two of his key security personnel. The one on the right looked appropriately sly, but the one on the left actually made Griffin shiver. He had a markedly nasty grin, revealing he was one of those goblins with exceptionally pointed teeth, and a sinister look to him that suggested he was up to something rather nefarious indeed.

Before he finished the article, the train arrived at his stop, so Griffin tucked the paper into one of the enchanted pockets Sirius had made for the coat to hide wands and the like, and ran up the steps of the station to cross the street and walk down a few blocks to the Leaky Cauldron. It was still snowing lightly, and there was a hint of ice on the sidewalk that forced him to walk slower than he would have cared to.

Once he reached the pub, Griffin hesitated a moment, then took a deep breath and entered behind two other young wizards who looked familiar, but they ignored him and pushed their way into the crowded room. Griffin stopped just inside the door and scanned the crowd, looking for Annie and Gary. He saw Annie first, leaning against the bar at the far end of the room near the fire, and felt the familiar butterflies she had started giving him about seven months ago. _Seven months, 3 weeks, 4 days and about 3 hours, I think. You're in trouble, boy._

"Well, well, if it isn't the Idiot Boy," she smiled at him as he came over to her. Griffin bowed deeply and was very happy to hear her laugh and watch her drop him a small curtsey in return.

"Hey," was all he managed, instantly feeling a slight flush at how fantastically daft that sounded to him. Annie just smiled wider.

"How was your day then? I slept most of the day, honestly. At least, I was sleeping until Daddy snuck in and dumped a large handful of snow on my feet and started a rather wild snowball fight even Mum got involved in."

Griffin laughed. "That's quite an accomplishment, considering Katie's aversion to being cold and wet."

"I think she was happy to help me gang up on daddy once she discovered he'd dumped snow all over her couch."

"And her daughter?"

"Her daughter can fight back. Her couch is not so gifted."

"Ah," Griffin found himself at a bit of a loss for words, or rather more frightened that he might just be compelled to utter words he was not really ready to deal with. He was spared at that moment, however, as Annie pointed past him and then waved. 

"Here comes Gary; want a drink, Black?"

"Capital suggestion, Lupin."

Gary came up to them just as Annie turned to signal the barmaid to come over. He gave Griffin a small clap on the shoulder and a smile, then pulled him slightly away from the bar to whisper at him.

"Griffin, I've been thinking about our disagreement…."

"Gary…."

"Listen; I had a long talk with my dad. I'm not going to give you details, but I'm going to say this. I know what's going on in that odd brain of yours, and I'm telling you, right now, to do something about it. The next chap won't be so…understanding."

Griffin looked at Gary carefully, and Gary gave another small smile and a shrug. "I'm not going to fight a loosing battle, Idiot Boy."

Griffin scowled at Annie's head for a moment, then looked at Gary and started to say something, but Gary stopped him.

"Look, mate, you need to know that she spent most of the night dancing with me, but looking at you. That's all you're going to get from me, and I think it's more than enough."

"She was just mad at me…."

"Yes, she was. Furious. But not for the reason you think she was. I wasn't 'muscling in', Griff, I just…well of course I was happy to have such a date, and yes I loved being with her, but she's not available. We all know that. Well, everyone but you it would seem."

"What on earth are you two whispering about?"

Gary and Griffin both turned to see Annie looking at them and holding three pints of Butterbeer in her hands. Griffin felt panicked, but covered for it by reaching to take two of the glasses from her.

"The essay on Bundimuns," he said roughly, looking at Gary and daring him to do something. Annie saw the look and scowled a bit.

"Rubbish. Whispering about the lovely Raven over there, are you?"

Griffin and Gary both turned to see that indeed Raven Brocklehurst was seated a few tables away, surrounded by about six boys from various houses in their year at school. Even the Slytherins had a thing for that witch. Griffin took a deep breath and turned to face Annie's scowl.

"Think I should go over there and tell them she can't dance to save her life?"

This had the desired effect of first startling Annie, then coaxing a rather large smile from her.

"Let them figure that out for themselves."

Griffin sipped his drink and ignored it when Gary deliberately trod on his foot. 

Annie turned to say something to Gary, when there was a loud thud heard from the fireplace, and two figures toppled out onto the hearth. Most of the people near the fire simply moved a step back and didn't break their conversations, while a few others laughed or chuckled. Griffin glanced to see who had bunged up floo transport so badly, and practically dropped his drink when he saw Roarke pulling herself up and dragging a stunned and ill looking young man with her. She gave him a rather disgusted little push, and ran a hand through her hair to get it out of her eyes.

"Roarke!"

Roarke turned to look at Griffin and obviously noted that Gary and Annie were also standing there looking at her with surprised and equally amused expressions. Roarke grabbed the still dizzy looking man by the arm of his coat, marched up to them, and accepted Griffin's drink when he held it out to her. She took a big gulp, coughing slightly as she panted for air. Griffin gave her a whack on the back and took the glass back, then offered it to the strange man. He simply opened and closed his mouth a few times, not saying anything, and shaking.

Roarke sighed and leaned against the bar, nudging Griffin to move over and give her more room.

"Thanks. This is Billy. He's just met trolls for the first time."

Annie gave him a sympathetic look and patted the man on the arm. "And it looks like his first trip through the Floo network as well. Are you alright? Let me get you a drink. One of my mother's tonics would be more appropriate, but you'll have to make do with a drink."

Roarke gave Griffin a wry smile, and then asked the barmaid for two firewhiskeys. Griffin and Gary both let out teasing whistles of admiration at Roarke which she ignored. She pressed one of the drinks into Billy's hand, and then put her hand on his chin to force him to look at her.

"Drink. Now."

Griffin had to laugh as the man drank without another question, and then tried to look sympathetic as the man took far to large a mouthful and turned purple and gasped as the whiskey went down.

"Should have told him to 'sip', Firecracker."

"You may have a point, Griffin. Look, do me a favour, Gary; is your mum home?"

Gary nodded.

"Can you trot back there for a moment and ask her to meet me in front of Gringotts as soon as possible? I have a feeling something rather sticky is going on, but I want her opinion."

"Sure. Should I mention the trolls and the Muggle here?"

Annie and Roarke both chuckled as they looked at each other, shaking their heads firmly, and Roarke raised an eyebrow at Gary. "Let's just save that exciting bit for the moment; I really don't want to kick up anything if this is just a, well, personal argument. Why I want to talk to your mum and not Harry or, gods help poor Billy here, my dad. Let's bring a voice of reason in here before both he _and_ I start in on getting lectured, shall we?"

"Got it," he grinned as he moved to the fireplace.

Griffin and Annie exchanged a long look before Roarke put down her glass and reached to take Billy's arm once more. He didn't protest, but he still didn't say anything as she led him with her towards the backdoor and the entrance to the Alley. 

"Oh, we are _so_ going to find out what's up," said Griffin, and instinctively took Annie's arm himself and pushed her in front of him. "Follow that wild sister, Lupin."

"This may not be wise," she said, amused, but she didn't stop. "Your dad will _flip_ if this gets nasty and you get us in the middle of it."

"The incident in France was _so_ not my fault I'm not even going to grace that with an answer, Lupin."

"Face it, Black, it takes a lot to get Sirius worked into a dither, but that whole bikini thing did it."

"He was just jealous he missed it, that's all."

Roarke was just getting the entrance to the Alley open when they caught up. Griffin was rather surprised that she didn't make to stop them following her and the Muggle, and decided to see if she would let them in on what had happened.

"So, how was the job interview?"

"Very interesting, actually. I met this Slipnod and a wizard named Wataweet in one of the jeweller's shops the bank uses to front cash back to the Muggles and…other things. I thought it was odd, but based on what they told me, it seemed to make sense at the time. However, as I was leaving, something happened. Billy here was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Wataweet was attacked by trolls who were obviously in cahoots with goblins. _Which_ goblins will be the operative question, I think."

Griffin looked at Billy, who was now looking at the scene around him with an even more blank expression. "I saw in the paper that Gringotts is threatening to step up their security."

"I read that too. Maybe now we know why; to attack one of their chief wizards who was so concerned that he'd got permission to hire me on to look into an 'issue' they were having with some 'new spells'…it's all a little strange."

Billy stopped walking at that point and looked at Roarke. "Where are we?"

"We're in London, a few blocks from your office. Don't worry about it, I promise it will all be a bad dream soon enough."

"Yeah…yeah…I've had a lot of those lately…."

Roarke looked at Griffin and Annie for a moment, then faced Billy fully. "You have? What about?"

"Um…a few things…I was attacked by these midgets with sharp teeth in one. Really creepy."

Gary ran up to them at that point, looking a little disappointed.

"Um, bad news; mum and dad seem to have taken the twins out somewhere. Next suggestion?"

Before Roarke could respond, however, the shrill sound of a goblin whistle was heard, and a small band of goblins wearing Gringotts livery popped up in front of them. The goblin in front Griffin recognised as one of the goblins he had seen in the paper. It gave Roarke a slimy, toothy grin.

"Miss Lupin? Would you be so very kind as to join us?"

"I _beg_ your pardon, Slipnod. I don't believe I accepted your position, however I do need to speak with…."

Slipnod wagged one long finger and Roarke stopped talking with an odd look on her face.

"We'll discuss this in a more private setting, I think. As you are aware, something has…happened…."

Griffin stepped up next to Roarke and glared at the goblin.

"What are you doing? How dare you cast a spell on her! Let her go this instant!"

Griffin felt a hand on his arm, and glanced over to see Roarke give him an odd smile.

"Griffin, what are you talking about? I haven't been cast at," she said quietly.

"But…"

"I just shut up, Idiot Boy, a concept I understand you may be stumped by. But thank you for being so gallant."

Slipnod gave a low growling laugh. "How sweet. Now, time is of the utmost importance…." His voice died as another goblin whistle was heard, and another 20 goblins popped onto the street behind the first group, this time with a very old and very, very mean looking goblin at their head.

"TRAITOR!" he shrieked! "SHOULD HAVE GUESSED IT! YOU ALWAYS WERE A SLIMLY AND DEVIOUS LITTLE…."

They didn't learn what the goblin was going to compare Slipnod to as Slipnod cut him off with a loud bang, and a huge cloud of foul smelling blue smoke. Griffin gagged and waved his hands in an effort to see what was going on, and succeeded only in smashing his hand against what he assumed to be the head of a goblin.

"Oi! Do watch it!"

"WHAT!?!"

The screamer goblin seemed to have moved forward, and was now standing in front of Griffin. Slipnod himself had vanished. Griffin glared down at the furious little face and was about to say something when Roarke hissed in his ear.

"Do the words '_governmental incident' _mean **nothing** to you Griffin?"

"Oh Roarke, I think you might be a little far off with that…."

"Rubbish! Do you KNOW who that is?"

"This little old wrinkly one?"

"That's Kentvicks! He's the head of Gringotts!"

"Ah."

"Yes, 'ah'."

Kentvicks had gone back to screaming, drawing a large crowd around him at this point, and Griffin looked up to see several enforcement wizards now trying to reach them, but the goblins with Kentvicks had made a circle around himself, Roarke and the Muggle standing by Kentvicks and were now involved in a stand-off of sorts.

"Roarke?"

"Don't say another word, Griffin, just stand here quietly and let this get dealt with."

This would have been excellent advice under normal circumstances. However, what they did not know, but which their grandchildren and further generations of young witches and wizards would hear about in 'The History of Magic' in years to come was that this was officially the moment the 73rd Goblin Rebellion started.


	6. The Owls Are Not What They Seem

Chapter Five: The Owls are Not What They Seem

__

In which the readers will at last discover what Draco Malfoy's 'project' is, and discover what happens in the aftermath of the goblin's confrontation in Diagon Alley. They will also learn how Mrs. Black occupies her time, and considering what she puts up with, will hopefully be amused.

Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl,

How charmlingly sweet you sing!

Oh! Let us be married; 

to long we have tarried:

But what shall we do for a ring?"

They Sailed away for a year and a day,

To the land where the bong-tree grows;

And there in a wood a piggy-wig stood,

With a ring on the end of his nose,

His nose,

His nose,

With a ring on the end of his nose.

__

- Edward Lear: The Owl and the Pussy Cat

***

Had Draco Malfoy been given even the slightest suggestion as to what he would Apparate into the middle of that evening, he would surely have simply refused to leave the house, and probably charmed the doors shut for good measure. As it was, he was putting on the final touches to his wardrobe for that evening, utterly ignorant to the fact that the evening would be infinitely more exciting and even entertaining than he had expected it to be. 

Draco completed buttoning up his dark grey dress robes over his white shirt and tunic, and checked to make sure that every single hair was still in place, then walked over to the door to the bathroom and knocked rather briskly.

"Peliah! Do get a move on or we shall miss the opening!"

"Oh rubbish," came the muffled cry through the bathroom door. "Tell me exactly to the minute the last time the Mysteries of Bernard players _ever_ started a performance on time!"

Draco smiled at the door and shook his head, even as he put his hands on his hips to stop himself crossing his arms and wrinkling his robes.

"My dear, I do believe you are well aware that I have never attended a performance of this 'artistic troupe' as you insist I address them, so I have no means of responding to your challenge."

The door opened a bit and a grinning face surrounded by masses of soaking wet black curls peeked out.

"I know, Cherie. And tonight you shall see what delights you have been missing! And once more I remind you that you are quite the brave little dragon for letting me talk you into this!"

Draco fought to keep as haughty and disapproving a look on his face as he could muster, but wasn't sure he was getting anywhere.

"Peliah," he said in a low voice, "your _hair_ is still _wet_."

She rolled her eyes at him and slammed the door shut. Draco heard her saying a drying spell loudly, then laughing again, and then telling him to bugger off and let her finish, she would be ready when she was ready, as she was still arguing with several rather stubborn stains about her person.

"Well I believe I **did **suggest this morning that staining the plaster may **not** have been the best activity to take on this day," he growled quietly. But not quiet enough; on the opposite side of the door Peliah launched into another of her architectural lectures, this one seeming to focus on the need to adhere stain in the plaster before it had set properly, and that her entire schedule would be set back if this wasn't done, and **no** she was not going to magic the plaster in place because that simply wasn't proper….

Draco walked without a sound across the carpet to exit the bedroom and wander downstairs to engage in busywork until Peliah decided she was ready to leave for Diagon Alley. He descended the main stairs and crossed the entryway to his study, giving the pots of stain still lying about a wide berth and avoiding walking through the fine dust of dried plaster that had settled on the drop cloths by the wall. 

As Draco opened the door and crossed the threshold to his study, he repeated the same exercise he had done every single time he had entered this room since his return to the Manor after the end of term. Draco swung the door closed behind him, and then stood there silently with his hands on his hips, vaguely shaking his head as he took in the look of the room. The transformation was simply astonishing, and honestly beyond what he had imagined. He experienced a slight panic attack once more knowing that the reason for this was that Peliah knew him so well. But he did manage a smile as he considered the next time anyone asked him for advice in selecting an artisan he would suggest that choosing one you would fall in love with seemed to work wonders on their output.

Of course, this had hardly been his intent. Despite his mother's increasingly pressing inquiries as to if he truly intended to remain a bachelor all his life and locked up in 'that damn school', Draco had simply kept his focus on those things which seemed of importance to him at any given moment. After several years focused on perfecting his DADA curriculum, his focus had turned to renovating Malfoy Manor, as it was in desperate need and Draco, frankly, did not find Lady Malfoy's thinly veiled hints at her desire for a grandson as important. He had set about finding a team of artisans who would be worthy of the task, and was increasingly angered that this was not as simple as he had originally assumed. After the most promising candidate had failed in a truly spectacular manner (and which left Draco in despair that the dining hall would ever recover), he had literally screamed about it to Malcolm Lupin one evening as they sat over dinner in the manor's kitchens, as Draco could not bear to look at the remains of the once grand frescos in the dining hall.

This had been two years ago. Shortly after that, Malcolm had sent Draco a letter saying that he had found the **perfect** artist to tackle the monumental task of restoring the manor house and redesigning some of the darker aspects Draco found extraordinarily distasteful and overbearing. Draco had at first assumed it was the set up to another of the young man's rather deliciously complex practical jokes. It wasn't until a few weeks after, when Roarke had asked him before she left that afternoon's DADA class what Draco had thought of the artisan Malcolm was so excited about, that he even considered this might be legitimate. Roarke was the most solemn and straightforward of Remus and Katie's children, and she never participated in others' pranks. What few she engaged in were entirely solo affairs, no matter how close she and Malcolm were. 

Draco had arranged to return to the Manor the next weekend, and sent an owl to the woman in question asking her to be there to meet with him Saturday morning at 9:30 am, and telling her not to appear a moment before as he himself would not be present until then. He opted to leave out the information that should she appear on the doorstep and only Lady Malfoy was at home to receive her that she would most likely have a distinctly unpleasant day. Draco's mother was decidedly against his altering _anything_ in the house, and had already managed to terrify three other artists who had replied to Draco's inquiry for assistance. The last one had actually lodged a complaint against both of them for 'maliciousness'. Harry Potter had been kind enough to get that complaint shunted off to another office in the Ministry before Parkinson had had the opportunity to get her hands on it, as complaints against accused former Death Eaters always went through the Department of Mysteries first. 

Draco had to smile again as he gazed at his transformed study and recalled the first moment Peliah Mercier had burst into his life. He had arrived home on the Saturday in question at 9:25, and stayed outside on the front steps waiting for the arrival of the artisan. All Malcolm had told him was that she was very talented and had quite a following. She was accomplished at both restoration and design, so she could in fact handle all of the work Draco wanted done. Malcolm had forwarded the glowing recommendations he had collected on her work from her previous engagements. Draco had already learned that his own inquiries did not always garnish very open or even polite responses.

At 9:30 on the nose, Draco heard the unmistakable sound of a Muggle car engine. Surprised, he glided down off the steps and walked around the front of the house to look across the drive leading to the gates. There was absolutely no possibility of any Muggle crossing the wards surrounding the estate. True, Malfoy Manor was no longer unplottable (part of his 'polite agreement' with the Ministry made all of those years ago when his 'complicity in certain unsavoury actions' was 'excused') but the place was still deeply enchanted and protected. This could only be a magical person, and one who had been granted access at that.

A red Muggle automobile of some sort was coming up the drive at a rather alarming speed. It skidded to a halt in front of him, sliding on the gravel somewhat, and the door was flung open as the driver seemed to propel herself with great force from the inside. The young-looking woman leaned on the top of the car, and smiled broadly at him.

"Draco Malfoy, I presume?"

"Miss Mercier, I sincerely hope for your sake."

The young woman absolutely roared with laughter and slammed her door shut, and trotted around the automobile, reaching to shake Draco's hand, her smile remaining.

"Miss Peliah Mercier, indeed. Don't remember me? I doubt you would. Can't imagine the Head Boy and the top Slytherin paying any attention to a Hufflepuff underclassman. Not that we minded being ignored by you lot, of course. But I do have some very nice sketches of you in your last year playing Quidditch. I should dig those out...I think I could find them…we'll find a lovely place them in here somewhere I'm sure. Good lord, are those rather gruesome rain ducts magicked up there properly? When were those installed, then? During the days of Uric the Oddball? They have the look of some of his ideas….hmmm. So who is odder, the oddball or the oddball who follows him? Yes, those will go quickly; they are completely breaking the line of the roof. Mon dieu, Regency windows? Blech."

"The windows are not original," said Draco, automatically, trying to figure out what this odd woman was doing as she ran up and down the front of the house, her head craned to look up at the architecture of the stories and the wings, her long wavy black hair shaking out of the loose tie she had on it as she moved about quickly. "There was …damage… done to the front rooms of the third story. Those are the replacements."

"Damage as in a dark spell got away from someone or damage as in someone was trying to blast one of your ancestors to kingdom come?"

Draco gave her a cool look. "Rather a combination of both, to my understanding. Not that that is any concern of yours."

Peliah Mercier gave him another huge smile and winked at him.

"Too right, my Lord Malfoy. What matters is that I'm going to set them right for you. About time someone tackled this place. Lovely marble on the steps here at least."

Peliah had not even been formally hired, to Draco's recollection. She simply arrived and started work. Narcissa Malfoy had been furious to arrive downstairs after breakfast to stumble across a seeming madwoman in the Blue Room with a paintbrush sweeping broad and dripping swaths of paint across the antique wallpaper as she was deciding what colour would replace the 'sphinx dung' currently on the walls. She was even angrier to find her son simply reclining on a sofa with a cup of tea watching the woman with an odd smile. Draco had sent her back out that time, but the resulting battle of wills that ensued during the course of the summer had been interesting to say the least. Peliah, for her part, showed a brazen passion in defending her choices in the changes to the décor. Narcissa went back and forth between trying to hex her and dressing down Draco. Draco, quite used to such family dramas, had simply removed the various hexes without a sound and continually told his mother to deal with it. The day Lady Malfoy had discovered Peliah was a Hufflepuff was particularly gruesome. However, Draco had been completely taken aback by the force Peliah finally put up to Narcissa, no less amazing by the fact that Narcissa called a truce of sorts after that moment and actually started offering helpful ideas. Draco had only been vaguely concerned for Miss Mercier's life when he left to return to Hogwarts that fall.

Draco actually chuckled to himself as he walked across his new deep green carpet to his rosewood desk and started rummaging through that day's mail. A courtship had, much like Peliah herself, simply arrived and settled in, based primarily at first on arguments over hues of green appropriate for the dining room and long, long letters back and forth between the Manor and Hogwarts about the importance of knowing how much your exterior surroundings reflected your true self. Draco had about fainted when he saw his new bedroom in rich dark reds, but had truly grown to love it as much as Peliah did.

As he glowered at yet one more dithering letter from Gringotts over the status of his seniority, the artist herself appeared. She had dressed herself in a Muggle gown, but one that still passed Wizard sensibilities. The deep amber gold of the material set off her dusky skin very nicely, and her black eyes shone from her sparsely made up face. She had an odd and almost off-putting appearance, her eyes a little too big, and her mouth a little too full, but had Draco actually been allowed to have a say in the decoration she was working on, he would have included several portraits of her. He smiled to himself as he stood up and walked over to take her hand and kiss it lightly, knowing that she could not refuse the request for at least one portrait once they were married. Tradition after all, and had she not agreed that tradition was a noble thing?

"Very lovely, my dear. Shall we?"

"We shall. Did the roses get delivered today? I want to start on the conservatory soon."

"I've honestly no idea, Peliah. I have not heard any word of anything, so I would assume they are still in transit."

"Oh bloody hell!"

Draco gave her a smile and shook his head.

"That's what you get for ordering them off season."

"No, that's what I get for letting you choose such an odd style. Mr. Lincolns indeed!"

"Come, we shall be late."

***

As the cloud of blue smoke released by the traitorous rebel goblins cleared, the dynamics of the resulting stand-off between the goblins and the Enforcement wizards became discernible. Black robed witches and wizards, wands held at the ready, circled a large ring of goblins dressed in brilliant red Gringotts livery. The goblins faced the wizards, and had their own hands raised and ready in front of them. Griffin, Roarke and Billy Stockwell stood in the middle of these concentric rings. There was a noticeable silence as everyone regarded each other and considered their next move. The silence was broken after several moments by the sound of 'pops' ringing out, as the Aurors began to arrive and assess the situation.

Diagon Alley is not a large space. Located in one of the older sections of London, the widest part is at most 25 yards, but the amounts of things pouring onto the sidewalk from the stores has the effect of shrinking that space. Needless to say, once the Alley had become crowded with goblins, Enforcement Wizards and civilians, things became a little tight. The dramatic arrival of the Aurors only caused the crowd to push a little closer, trying to see what was happening.

Griffin recognised the scared and scowling face of Morrighan Gwynen, one of the chief Aurors, as she pushed through the crowd to the edge of the ring of Enforcement wizards and took in the situation. She gave Kentvicks a rather exasperated look, even as the goblin looked back with a distinct sneer on his rage-reddened face.

"Kentvicks, what is this?"

"THIS is something I have been warning you would happen for months. THIS is no longer your concern. We'll deal with it."

Gwynen shook her head firmly.

"Come on now; we'll take care of this together…."

Kentvicks growled. "I think not," he sneered. "Gringotts is now closed, until we have brought this issue to a proper conclusion. This is no longer a matter for you or your Ministry."

Gwynen again shook her head and indicated the three humans standing near Kentvicks. "Gringotts is under your supervision of course, and we'll get back to that, but right now it looks to me like you have two of our citizens and some Muggle held against their consent. That **is** my business."

Kentvicks turned to give a small glance over his shoulder at Griffin and the others. Griffin took a moment to follow the goblin's gaze and look at Billy. The man rather gave the impression he was basically moments from simply passing out from shock. His mouth hung open slightly and he had gone beyond pale right to an odd sort of blue colour. Considering the day he was having, Griffin couldn't really blame him. He was not very happy himself with the idea of being at the mercy of the goblins, if one could even use that phrase. But he simply remained very still and told himself this would be over soon. Provided, of course, the goblins were not provoked into simply being spiteful. 

"This one," said Kentvicks, pointing with vehemence, and jabbing his finger in her direction at the end of each work to drive his point home, "was last seen in the company of a fellow we now _know _to be a traitor. He had arranged to meet with her secretly, she kept that meeting, and I am claiming the right to hold her, per OUR laws, until we are satisfied that she has given us all of the information we need. We have that right; your government **gave** it to us. Shall I quote the mandate for you?" he added with a malicious and condescending air.

Griffin understood enough of goblin law to know that this was not a good development at all. Still, Roarke had a perfectly reasonable excuse; he was sure, as Roarke always had a reasonable excuse. At least, he couldn't really place a finger on any time when she hadn't at least pulled a reasonable excuse out of thin air, if necessary.

Griffin caught Roarke's eye quietly and gave the slightest raised eyebrow in her direction. Roarke nodded very slightly back at him, and Griffin was satisfied that there was an excuse somewhere that would get them out of this. Provided nobody did anything stupid. Griffin had no doubt that neither he nor Roarke would be doing that, and he doubted if Billy would be able to remember his own name for the next few days, so that was alright. But this moment of confidence that this was just going to be an interesting coda to his planned evening of seeing the Mysteries of Bernard Players with his two best friends was irretrievably lost as a small figure pushed its way through the crowd and came to stand next to Gwynen.

Griffin prayed to whoever might be listening for his mummy. Not that he was having some sort of immature panic attack, but that Elizabeth Black, PhD, was such a better option in this situation than what he was now faced with. To deal with the crisis they had called in the head of his mother's office, the Dreaded Buherger.

Sirius Black had made great progress in controlling his temper and learning to maintain an even emotional keel over the years after his acquittal. But there were still those things which would send him into fits under the right circumstances, and the dreaded Buherger was at the very top of the list. It didn't help that Buherger had been Sirius' divination instructor at Hogwarts for two years (before he had retired due to nerves: dealing with the children was more than he could manage) and the fact that Sirius had true latent seer abilities that Buherger ignored put them at odds with each other to start with. 

Then Liz had announced at dinner as she was describing her first day on the job working with the Magical Crisis Management team who her supervisor was. Sirius practically choked on his dinner and put a dent in the table when he slammed his fork down in shock. Unhappy with Liz taking a dangerous job in the first place, finding out that she was working with that particular man seemed to enrage him further. Liz told him to stop being silly, she was sure the man would be fine. Sirius glowered at her over Griffin's head, and said, "Mrs. Black, I do not like to accuse you of making a mistake as I know you to be a decidedly intelligent and careful person when necessary. But you will eat those words on this one, I promise you that."

True to Sirius' prediction, over the ensuing years since that moment, Buherger seemed to cause more crises than he managed. Particularly at the Black home. He spent much time serving as an expert witness for the Ministry in court, generally against a defendant Sirius was representing. Buherger and Sirius had almost come to blows more than once. Well, Sirius had; Buherger tended to just go pale and blanch whenever Sirius so much as sneezed in his direction. 

Griffin saw now that Roarke had noticed the Dreaded Buherger as well, and she now actually looked slightly concerned. Griffin prayed again, this time that Buherger just dealt with this in a straightforward fashion, and did not try to 'understand the motivation and the anger of the situation'. 

The thin little wizard gave a weak smile at Kentvicks and cleared his throat to get the goblin's attention. Kentvicks gave him an exasperated look, and even rolled his eyes.

"Hello, hello, Kentvicks. So, um, what seems to be at issue here?"

Kentvicks simply suggested Buherger do something rude to himself, then turned to whisper something to the taller goblin standing on his left. Buherger gave a small cough, even as Griffin saw Gwynen roll her eyes behind the wizard's back herself. Gwynen stepped forward again, half blocking Buherger.

"Come on Kentvicks, there's no need for this. I can't imagine for a moment that Miss Lupin there has caused any Malicious Mischief for you by aiding and abetting Slipnod and those working with him."

Kentvicks gave Gwynen a dark look through narrowed eyes.

"We are not so convinced. Miss **Lupin** comes from rather…_extraordinary_… circumstances, does she not?" 

Griffin felt himself go red at that, and saw Gwynen get an equally dangerous glint in her eye.

"Kentvicks, be reasonable; you have **no** basis for making such statements, and are not helping the situation by…."

"I've no intent of HELPING you at all, you _(expletive uttered in Goblin and beyond the writers language skills)_. Exactly **how** are your types going to track a goblin? A goblin intent on destruction, and on TAKING OVER?!?!"

Buherger seemed, for some inexplicable reason, to find both voice and courage at that point, and leaned around the Auror to get a better look at the goblins.

"I sense that there is a lot of anger right here. You have been betrayed: I can understand how that would be troubling. Tell me, how do you really feel about this? How are you letting your feelings cloud your judgement? I know if we can just talk about them, and find out what's really speaking out of you, that we can find a resolution that will please you!"

Billy Stockwell came to life at this, and looked horrified. At least it was an emotion.

"We're going to be rescued with **_psycho-babble_**?" he shrieked. Griffin gave him a decidedly nasty scowl and motioned for silence. But Kentvicks slowly turned and fixed his attention on the three humans still standing behind him. Griffin recognised his nasty and villainous smile from the photo in the Prophet, and knew that something unpleasant was about to happen.

"We're wasting time," growled the little old goblin.

Before any of the witches or wizards trying to contain the situation and keep some peace could react, Kentvicks muttered something in goblin (which is a rather horrible sounding thing). Six of his followers sprang forward, each grabbing hold of one of the arms of Roarke, Billy and Griffin. They gave a small hop and a skip, and then actually jumped over the heads of the Aurors and the Enforcement wizards. Buherger threw his arms over his head and ducked as he cried out 'now really!' just as the goblins let out a high pitched shriek, shattering the glass in the windows of the store behind the crowd. As the glass exploded into a fine dust, Griffin instinctively closed his eyes and coughed as they moved with unbelievable speed. It was only the metallic crashing, the bedlamite chorus of hoots and screeches, and the immediate sneezing fit Griffin launched into as a cloud of down feathers were released by the simultaneous beating of hundreds of wings that allowed Griffin to identify the fact that the goblins just seemed to have trashed the Eeylops Owl Emporium in the blink of an eye. 

One of the goblins holding Griffin seemed to give a chuckle, and mumbled "too soft! Too soft!" Griffin managed to open his eyes and look up just as it seemed they were going to crash into a door. But he didn't even have time to cry out as the door evaporated just as the window had, and the goblins raced through the doorway without slowing a beat. What Griffin did not know (and in fact, very, very few people did) was that the back porch of the Emporium opened out onto an alley in Muggle London. This was so the owls could be moved easily and surreptitiously without aggravating the birds with Portkeys and the like. Owls were notoriously sensitive to being shifted with such spells. At best, they sulked and refused to deliver mail for weeks. At worst, some owls seemed to be permanently mentally discombobulated, and per Wizard law were no longer fit for sale. Of course they were sold quietly on the cheap with extensive warnings that they should only be kept as pets and not trusted with deliveries beyond the end of the road. The Department for Misinformation had several full-time staffers focused entirely on the issue of confused owls popping up in Muggle breakfast nooks with their mail bundles. 

But as discrete as the back alley may have been under normal circumstances, there was every possibility that a parliament of owls exiting the alleyway in a great rush over the heads of the Muggles out enjoying the early evening on the main street was going to attract attention. Griffin didn't have time to notice. As they raced up the alley, he saw what appeared to be a hole open up on the ground. Without slowing, the goblins and their human captives soared into the hole. Griffin felt a spell wrap around him and he went completely numb, and everything fell silent and black.


	7. The Politics of Dahn-Senge

Chapter Six: The Politics of Dahn-senge

__

In which Draco's evening is thoroughly ruined, the Goblin plot thickens, governments are insulted, and old pets are put to good use.

We got the message; I heard it on the airwaves -   
The politicians are now DJ's

The broadcast was spreading; station to station -  
Like an infection across the nation

Well you know you can't stop it  
When they start to play  
You gotta get out the way

The politics of dancing  
The politics of feeling good  
The politics of moving  
Is this message understood ?

__

- The Politics of Dancing: Paul Fisherman (Re-Flex)

***

Draco Malfoy and Peliah Mercier Apparated from the Welsh border and directly into a snow-storm that, for some reason Draco couldn't fathom as he started to gasp, made them both start sneezing vehemently. Thankfully the onslaught only seemed to last for several seconds, and when Draco managed to open his watering eyes and look about, he was rather taken aback by the chaos around him.

"What the hell is going on?" Peliah said in a voice more angered than startled. What indeed? The snow storm turned out to be a cloud of owl feathers, released by what seemed to be every owl in wizardom flapping madly through the confined space of the street.

Draco shook his head, even as he quickly scanned the crowd trying to locate a face friendly enough to approach for answers. Not that this was a simple thing to try and do; wizards, Aurors, witches, goblins and owls seemed to be engaged in some odd tarantella, all running and moving in circles and shouting, growling and hooting as one. Peliah grabbed his robes and pulled him back with her just as a spell shot dangerously close to the sport where Draco's head had just been. They both quickly glanced at each other then cast a repelling charm in front of them.

"Peliah, do you see anyone we know?"

"Isn't that the chief Auror?"

Draco have her a slight glare, "Really, Peliah; do you see anyone we know who won't find a way to blame this all on _me_ once they speak with me?"

"Oh don't be so dramatic, my dragon. Even _I_ wouldn't blame this on you," she said with a grin, even as she deflected another hex that had bounced off of a pile of cauldrons at the magical supplies shop.

Before Draco could say anything else, he was stunned to speechlessness as he did recognise two of the members of the crowd. Hesitating only a second, he took hold of Peliah's hand and pulled her forward towards the two figures. Without stopping as he reached the other two, he released Peliah only to reach out and grab an arm in each hand and continue forward propelling his new companions in front of him into the relative safety of a doorway. Only when he had the others safely against the doorframe and shielded from the street with his own self did he speak again.

"Miss Lupin! Mr. Weasley! What in the name of Salazar Slytherin is going on? How did these owls get out and…."

"Griffin!" choked Annie. Draco couldn't decide if he was more surprised by the fact that Annie was in fact crying, or by the implication that even Griffin Black could have done something so insane as to have caused this scene. Annie's distress checked his next comment, however. _Surely had that child done this willingly she would not be so shaken; she would probably, considering their history, be amused._

"Miss Lupin, what do you mean? Is Mr. Black here somewhere?"

"NO! No! He's gone! So is Roarke…just through there," she pointed with a ferocity and a slight snarl now, behaviour Draco had only ever seen Roarke herself engage in. "They TOOK them!" Annie's tears had been transfigured into rage as she spoke, and she now lunged to move past Draco. He reached out quickly and blocked her, then held her firmly in front of him and forced her to look at him.

"Miss Lupin! Stay right here where I can keep an eye on you and kindly do NOT move again until I give you permission to do so! Am I clear in this?"

"Yes, Professor," she answered automatically, even as Draco could feel her straining slightly in his grip. For this reason he did not let go, even as he glanced quickly at Peliah and indicated with a shake of his head that she had better keep a close eye on what was going on behind them, as the din seemed only to be getting louder by the moment. Draco turned to Gary Weasley instead.

"Mr. Weasely, has something happened to young Mr. Black and the elder Miss Lupin?"

"Yes, Sir! They've just been taken, along with some Muggle, by some goblins… Something is happening with goblins, and with Gringotts. They…one of them indicated that Roarke was part of what was going on…."

"Right, and my Aunt Belinda has succeeded at long last in removing the hex my father put on her when they were in their teens!" muttered Draco, even as he released his hold on Annie's right arm so that he could turn and scan the scene behind him again. Annie took a step forward at that out of instinct but it only took a very slight tightening of his right hand to halt her movement. He did not even look back as he said, firmly and loudly enough to be heard over the shrieking and growing sound of objects shattering as charms and hexes reached them, "_What_ did I just ask of you, Miss Lupin?"

"But Professor!" she started, and Draco felt himself gear up for yet one more debate he would most likely loose with this disturbingly intelligent child, until Annie drew up short and now grabbed his arm herself and actually shook him.

"That one! That one! He was _right there!_ Kentvicks said something to him just before they snatched Sis and Black! **_Get him_**!"

Draco, for reasons he never came to understand throughout his long life, simply did as he was told, and 'got him'. Spinning to follow the little goblin who was now running past him in the direction of Gringotts, and what he no doubt assumed would be safety, Draco raised his left arm and cast the first spell he could remember that would have any effect on one of the nasty little bastards. That is was a decidedly dark spell and, by the letter of the law, illegal, was not of consequence to Draco at that moment. A dark blue wisp came from his wand, accompanied by a decidedly frozen gush of air. It wrapped itself around the fat little goblin and actually pulled him off of his feet and into the air upended; the spell actually tightened around each of the goblins fingers, effectively stopping him from being able to cast any magic himself. The goblin hung there a moment, then opened his mouth to shriek. This only caused the spell to whip up his arms to his face and clamp his mouth shut by wrapping itself around the man's chin and nose and pulling them tightly together. A frantic "hmmmmff! HMMMMMFFF!" was all that was heard as Draco flicked his wand and summoned the goblin to him.

Draco swung the goblin, harder than was necessary, against the wall and paused only as he heard the sounds of the street grow very dim behind him; obviously Peliah had cast a 'not here' charm.

"My beloved, you do recall it is illegal to cast 'not here' charms in this place?" he asked with a hint of a smile. Peliah returned his look and simply shrugged. Draco looked at Annie and Gary, who did have the sense of mind to look rather chagrined by what they were seeing, though it was obvious they knew _exactly_ what was being done.

"Children," said Draco, as calm and collected as ever, "the most effective forgetful-spells we cast are often the ones we cast upon ourselves. Or at least I think that is what I would intend to say, had I ever been witness to questionable casting in public and required such an action to be taken. Not that I have. Am I clear?"

"Very", said Gary Weasely, who now looked amused.

"Decidedly, Professor," added Annie, who was now glaring at the upturned goblin with a look Draco hoped he never faced himself. Draco shared one more glance with Peliah before he stepped forward to get a good clear look at his goblin catch. Had the situation not been so tense and decidedly disturbing knowing that Griffin and Roarke we in very real danger at the hands of the outraged goblins, Draco would, for the first time in his life, have roared with delight and laughter at what he saw.

__

Gods, perhaps it is true after all that if each of us waits long enough we will see the universal humour only you can indulge in. Thank you for this.

Draco took deliberate advantage of the fact that the captive goblin now clearly registered exactly who had ensnared him and practically exploded as he started to struggle harder against the spell. At least, as long as the spell let him; his movements were noticeably slowing as the wisp started to constrict against him.

"Shouldn't do that, old chap, as the bind will only draw tighter against any resistance you give it. Remember it is only a spell, and has no ability to consciously understand that it may be harming you…irreparably…as it tightens its hold."

The goblin immediately stopped struggling, and now just glared at Draco, who smiled even further at him, and stepped right up to his rapidly colouring face. The goblin tried to look enraged, suspended upside down against the wall against an advertisement for the latest edition of "Zounds and Redardo's Atlas of Muggle Oddities", but he managed only to look more frightened as Draco stopped inches from him and gave him a pale and bored looking smile.

"Why Farcourt, going somewhere?"

The little bank manager only gave a muffled squeak and wrinkled his nose as best he could against the constraints of the spell about his face. Draco waved his wand and the wisp retreated from Farcourt's nose and chin just enough to allow the fellow to speak. 

"There are benefits to being a DADA instructor," purred Draco, very quietly in Farcourt's ear, which was level to his face. "I know some _very_ interesting ways of asking questions. As you seem to have decided not to try to respond to version one of my asking, I suppose I shall have to try version two. And so forth, I'm sure you understand."

Farcourt had a momentary fit of defiance.

"You wouldn't dare, my Lord Malfoy; you've too much to lose showing that you're just what everyone expects!"

"Interesting tactic. But you do have a point; it simply wouldn't do to continue this discussion here in public. Miss Lupin, Mr. Weasley, please take hold of an arm each and you will stay with me. Peliah, get to the house immediately. Should anyone call, I am momentarily unavailable, but take them to the front parlour and have them wait while you contact me. I shall be at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Sirius Black. And tell the Lupins to come there immediately."

"And if your mother asks after you?"

"Tell her I am torturing a goblin. She'll be so delighted she may just cry."

Peliah laughed and vanished after stepping outside of the charm she had cast over the group so as not to break it before Draco was ready. Annie hesitated and looked back at the remains of the Owl Emporium, which was now being swarmed over by Aurors who seemed to be shouting at each other. Draco spoke softly to her.

"Annie?" 

She gave him a startled look at hearing him address her by name.

"Annie, my dear, let the Aurors do what they will. Should they reach Roarke and Griffin before we do, so much the better. But I think we had best see what Farcourt here has to say for himself and, shall we say, see about getting your sister and your friend back on _our_ terms. They will have to, for the sake of propriety, work though Dang-senge. We have no such restrictions, and will fare better I am sure."

Annie seemed to want to say something, but stopped and just nodded at Draco, taking his arm as he had requested. She gave Farcourt another enraged stare.

"Just you bloody wait," she sneered. "You think you should be afraid of Professor Malfoy, I bet. But you just _wait_ until Sirius and Liz get their hands on you!"

Draco gave Farcourt one more malicious smile. "Indeed, sir; you thought I was nasty when you tried to fiddle me to death with red-tape? You have _no_ idea what lies in wait for you just now. I dare say you will be begging that I in fact serve as your protector within the hour. Now, here we go."

***

The blackness that surrounded Griffin only lasted for a few seconds. Almost as soon as it had descended, it fell back a bit and Griffin noticed streaks of red and yellow he assumed to be torches lighting an underground cavern. At that moment they all stopped flying forward and began to plunge downward, moving even faster than before. Griffin ground his eyes shut tightly and focused on the grip of the goblins, knowing that he certainly would not be smashed into the floor of some cave while they held on. Just as this tactic almost failed him, however, the flight ended abruptly and Griffin was in fact dropped in a heap with his companions on a dirt floor. 

He opened his eyes just in time to see goblin legs disappearing through a small vaulted door opposite where he lay, and to see Roarke leap to her feet and move for the door. It was shut when she reached it and she was only able to slam a fist against it with a curse Griffin knew Katie would pass out from had she heard it. He knew from experience _exactly_ what one could and could not say within her earshot.

"Roarke?" he called out, surprised to hear the shake in his own voice.

Roarke came away from the door, reaching into her pocket for her wand even as she muttered around her hand, which was held to her mouth as she tried to soothe her bruised knuckles prior to healing them. She looked up at Griffin with a raised eyebrow even as she started to wave her wand over her hand.

"What?"

"Um, well…." Griffin tried to think of a question, but he was too preoccupied at that point with watching Roarke fix her hand and seeming to never think about trying her wand on the door. As he continued to fail to say anything Roarke shifted her attention to the insensate Billy. She knelt next to him and gave him a quick once-over, before tapping her wand to his chest with a gentle "_envenerate"_. Billy's chest glowed for a moment and then he sat straight up and had a violent coughing fit. 

"Now, now," said Roarke in a surprisingly gentle voice. "Deep breaths. You've had a bit of a shock. Well, we all have, but nothing too bad." Griffin could almost see the unuttered **_yet_** hanging in the air between them. He shifted to sit up on his knees and shuffled over to sit next to Billy opposite of Roarke and tried to give the poor Muggle a reassuring smile and nod. Considering he had no idea himself what was going on, it was a tad tricky, but Griffin was resolved not to panic unless Roarke did, and that was hardly likely to happen unless he really had to wish this lifetime goodbye and hope the next go-round lasted a bit longer.

Billy tried to take the deep breaths, but was still sputtering a bit. Roarke reached back into her robes and pulled out a bottle, which she opened very carefully and held up to Billy's lips for him to sip from. Griffin gave a little huff, finding himself amused despite the circumstances.

"Taken to carrying potions about like your mum? You are going to be a healer in the end, aren't you?"

"Hardly. Not unless the Muggles know something we don't," she said, holding up the bottle now so Griffin could read the 'Diet Coke' on the label. "Though I find this a pleasant tonic I sincerely doubt it holds any magical solutions to ailments."

Billy stopped coughing and looked at both of them with wide eyes.

"Okay, this is way out the realm of what I can deal with. Sorry. I'm not even interested in hearing where I am…."

Roarke stood up. "Good, as I don't think I can help you there. Griffin? Any ideas?"

"A cave seems a rather likely answer."

"Yes, thank you. Cave it is. Cave _where_?"

Griffin stood himself with a sigh and went to stand next to her as she inspected the door.

"Well why don't you _open the door_ and we can find out?"

Roarke faced him with her hands on her hips. "And I would do that exactly how?" she challenged. Griffin gave an exasperated 'humph', grabbed her wand from her belt and turned to the door.

__

"Alohamora!"

Absolutely nothing happened. Now, while it was always advisable wizards and witches use their own wands, it wasn't impossible to use another's. Griffin assumed he was simply not strong enough to do this, and handed Roarke her wand roughly and muttered 'you bloody do it!' while he reddened. Roarke smiled at him and shook her head, but she did take back her wand, raise it, and with an overly elegant sweep said '_Alohamora'_ herself. Griffin gaped as absolutely nothing happened, then looked sideways at Roarke.

"Griffin, dear, who just took us here?"

"Um… goblins…."

"And that means…?"

Griffin sank to the floor and leaned his back on the door now with a scowl. "Tuath. We're stuck."

Billy seemed more interested in this conversation than he claimed to be. "What's 'tuath'?"

"It's the official title of the magic used by Goblins. It's different than our magic, so they have ways of working against us that we can't control with normal means."

"Normal means. Normal as in 'standard, everyday, run-of-the-mill magic?"

"Exactly."

"Well that just clears that up, thanks," said Billy in a small and tired voice as he lay back down on the ground.

Griffin shook his head, but before he said anything else, he suddenly realised what Roarke had really said. Growing up in the manner he had, Griffin knew to listen very, very carefully to every word uttered in his presence as it could have far reaching consequences _not_ to grasp a meaning of something.

"Firecracker, did you say 'normal' means?"

Roarke smiled down at him with a slight twinkle.

"Indeed. Now why do you think I was invited to work at Gringotts in the first place? But don't get too excited; our 'hosts' are well aware of what I can and cannot do. Or, at least, they think they are. It's going to take me a while to figure out if there are any cracks in this place. And I am going to need your help, Griffin."

"My help? I'm no whiz-for-atoms with tuath, Roarke."

"No, you are not. But you are top of your class in Divinations, are you not?"

Griffin answered with a slow 'yes', trying to figure out what possible use that could be to _anyone_ let alone help them out of their current situation. 

Billy looked over at them again with a curious look. "What class?"

"Divinations," said Roarke smoothly, holding a hand out to Griffin so she could pull him to his feet and then steer him towards the wall opposite the door. "You would be more familiar with the term of 'fortune telling'." Billy looked totally confused, and Griffin smiled at him even as he and Roarke stepped over him to reach the wall.

"Don't ask me what she's thinking, I'm at a loss on this one as well. You want me to try and see if our future is to be stuck in this little cavern?" he said with a little chuckle.

"Not at all. I want you to find what I am very certain is hidden behind one of these walls. Remember, the goblins have us somewhere they consider 'safe' I am sure, and they always use this particular little item when wizards are involved. In fact, most of Gringotts' vaults are secured with them. Something called a 'pennwij'…."

"That's a spell marker. We did them in DADA last semester; Professor Malfoy said decidedly nasty things about them."

Roarke nodded but pointed at the wall with more determination. "And exactly _why_ are they so dangerous?"

Griffin thought about that one as he regarded the wall carefully. "Well, they are not unique to goblins or anything. In fact, they are ancient Egyptian magic, not tuath or even…"

"Skip the history lesson, Professor Binns and get to the DADA part of it," said Roarke, now tapping her foot at him. Even Billy had now stood and come over to join them in staring at the wall, and he looked at Griffin with what Griffin had a sinking feeling was hope.

"Well…well; because they are imparted with a form of sentience. They can feel…; they know we are here. And if we uncover them, they let out an alarm at best and curse us at worst. Some scholars think they are the source of the Muggles' 'mummy's curse' rot."

"Ah, would that I could award points to Gryffindor, Mr. Black."

Billy asked if this was another form of magic, which gave Griffin a much needed laugh.

"Hardly, Billy. Despite what some people might tell you. Roarke? Why do you think _I_ can find this thing if it is here? And what do you intend to _do_ with it once it is found?"

"You, Idiot Boy, are naturally empathic. So if you concentrate, you _should_ be able to sense anything that has a presence. And the pennwij has one. While you look for it, I'm going to figure out the best way to get at it. Which will, no doubt, involve Mr. Stockwell here."

Billy looked horrified at this idea and shook his head. "No way, no how! I'm not touching ANYTHING mentioned in the same sentence as the phrase "mummy's curse"!"

"But Billy, were you not listening to Griffin? That's all rot. Not even an issue!"

Griffin watched Billy with his best neutral face and hoped the man had not recovered his wits to notice the details Roarke was leaving out of that explanation. The details about their discussion of what the pennwij really could do to them. Thankfully, Billy decided not to think about it any further and in fact gave Roarke a rather sappy grin.

"So, I can in fact help you with this?"

Roarke beamed at him and actually reached up to pat the man on the cheek. "Absolutely. Now, let's give Griffin some room so he can concentrate. Come over here with me and help me with something else." Griffin barely managed to hold back the laugh as Billy turned to follow Roarke with an openly adoring look on his face. Roarke gave Griffin one final wink and mouthed 'good luck' before they retreated to the opposite side of the chamber.

Griffin faced the wall with a determined look, and slowly closed his eyes and started chanting a meditation to himself so he could try and calm himself to a point where this nutty notion of Roarke's might just work. He slowly relaxed to the sound of his father's voice repeating in his mind: _Griffin, if you must be a seer, please try to be reasonable about it._

***

Sirius Black was not well known for taking his own advice. In fact, as Draco Apparated his odd collection of companions to the Blacks, he deliberately avoided bringing them all directly into the house and elected instead to appear on their front porch, then knock. Draco had appeared unbidden into Sirius' home just once, over a decade ago, and was not in any mood to repeat the performance no matter _who _he was bringing with him. He deliberately did not turn around to check if the Muggle neighbours were in fact witness to the sudden arrival of a middle aged man in robes with a teenager on each arm and a goblin suspended in the air next to his head. Draco reached forward to knock on the door out of habit, but it was flung away from him as Annie grabbed the handle and told the door to open 'this INSTANT'.

"PADFOOT! LIZ!"

Draco quickly pulled the dangling Farcourt into the entry even as Gary swung the door closed behind them and looked at him with a questioning expression.

"Professor, why didn't you just come in?"

"Mr. Weasely, I doubt Mr. and Mrs. Black's door recognises me and my history with your dear friend Griffin's father dictates that I not take such a liberty unless I have a strong desire to be hexed that day."

"Ah. Well, come on…."

Draco and Gary moved forward even as they heard voices coming from the far side of the house.

"Annie! Sweetheart, what on earth…."

The ensuing conversation was not clear until the unmistakable cry of "WHAT?!?" came from Sirius Black. Seconds later the man himself appeared at the top of the landing with Annie and Liz running in tow. Sirius shot down the stairs and skidded to a halt in front of Draco. Draco braced himself for the onslaught and was startled into a momentary silence when the only words from Sirius were a rather strained "what happened?"

Draco indicated Farcourt in the air next to him.

"Black, I have little idea myself as to what occurred prior to my arrival in the Alleyway. Aurors are, right now, all over the scene and will no doubt be able to tell you more than I can when they arrive. But you and I know full well that they will be forced to investigate what is happening through the Goblin Congress, and that we have no real idea of knowing if the Dahn-senge is in fact _behind_ what is going on. I thought it more…prudent…to bring this one," here Draco pointed at Farcourt again, "here so we could talk to him ourselves. Not that you will have any recollection of my doing so, of course," added Draco quietly.

Sirius stared at Draco for a moment and then turned to face the goblin.

"Where the HELL is my son?"

"Sirius…" said Liz, coming up behind him and taking his arm. Draco was rather taken aback by the look on Liz's face. In all the years he had known her, he had never seen her look as upset. _But then, you have never seen her in such a situation._

"Liz," started Sirius in return, turning to look at her and then stopping as she put a finger to his lips.

"First off, Draco is right in saying that the Aurors may be here at any moment. Get that thing out of the front hall right now. Take him to your office and we will talk to him there. And we need to get Remus and Katie…."

Draco interrupted, even as he moved to follow Black up the stairs. "Mrs. Black, Peliah has gone to tell them what has happened and to send them here. They should arrive at any moment. I would suggest that once they get here, you ask them to contact Malcolm as soon as possible, as he may in fact be able to tell us what is happening at the Ministry now."

"And Harry! Contact Harry, Liz!"

"No; not Potter."

Sirius stopped and gave Draco quite a look, but Draco shook his head calmly. "Potter is too high-ranking, Black. We are about to engage in something I personally do NOT want the Ministry finding out about, and it would be best Potter not know about any illegal interrogations with a citizen of an unfriendly government. Malcolm is, bless him, a first-year. He won't be noticed."

Draco saw Sirius think that logic over for a moment then he nodded and continued to lead them to his study at the back of the house. Just as they opened the door, Remus stepped from Sirius' fire and gave the goblin suspended between Draco and Sirius a fevered and dangerous stare. At that moment Draco remembered that the full moon was to be the next night. 

"Where's Katie?" asked Sirius gruffly, even as he pointed for Draco to place Farcourt on the table in the centre of the room.

"Contacting Malcolm to find out what is happening. She'll be along later…." Remus stopped as Annie came into the room and ran over to him to hug him fiercely.

"Shush, Sweetheart. We'll get this sorted. Are you alright, little one?"

"Yes," she said in a tone that made Draco cringe. Years of teaching had made him become far too attached to his students he discovered a while ago, and he disliked seeing any of them so upset. This was the generation who was _never_ supposed to speak in such tones. They had all worked too hard and given up too much not to have that come true. With a snarl, he now turned to Farcourt, feeling an equally irate Black on one side and a livid Remus on the other.

"Well, Farcourt. As I said to you before, there are simple ways you can help me, or there are difficult ways. You can decide."

Farcourt still kept up a defiant attitude.

"They wouldn't dare touch me, any more than you would! You think I don't know who you all are? You think I don't know that _all_ of you tread lightly with your pathetic Ministry!?"

Draco indicated for Remus and Sirius to step back from the table for a moment. They looked at each other then took a few steps away in perfect tandem. Draco then leaned in very close to Farcourt and gave him the coldest look he could manage. Then once Farcourt twitched, Draco smiled again.

"Now pay very, very close attention to me. You see, Farcourt, what you have always suspected about me, well, is quite true," here the goblin turned a very sickly shade of green, and Draco continued with even more relish. "And you think that I, or an ex-convict, or a _werewolf_ are at all worried about what you say about us? Do you _really?_ You know, I've seen them loose their temper. Black is particularly nasty. And just in case this had escaped your notice in all the excitement," Draco pointed calmly over Farcourt's shoulder out the window. Farcourt turned slowly and choked when he saw the nearly full moon hanging low in the sky.

"And if you are eaten up, little man, who will hear you then?"

"NO!"

Draco smiled again. "Farcourt, you are a bank manager, not a goblin freedom fighter. Tell me what I want to know. Don't make me get it from you. Not that I would particularly mind doing that, considering our history together. I more than owe you a few…headaches."

Farcourt started to struggle again, forgetting the spell still held him. He did manage to stop, though, as the wisp once more tightened on his nose and chin.

"Malfoy…" said Sirius in an impatient tone behind him, but Draco only held up his hand for silence and Black seemed willing to give him a few more moments.

"Well, Farcourt? What is it to be? When I loosen the spell is it to hear what you have to say, or is it to pour something cold and nasty down your little throat? You do know about Slytherins, of course. We _don't_ lose. No matter _what_ it takes. And those Gryffindors behind me are in no mood to be noble with you right now."

The goblin nodded as much as he could before the spell tightened further. Draco let him sit there a bit as he turned to Sirius and Remus.

"I'm not sure what we'll get from him, but we'll get something. Just continue to stand there and look outraged, will you? I'm afraid I have rather slandered you both and it won't do if you prove me wrong. I won't do anything too hideous."

"Do what you damn well like, Malfoy," growled Sirius. "Just get it done…."

Before Draco could turn back to Farcourt, the front door chime sounded. Liz took Gary and Annie by the hand and exited the room, amidst Annie's protests. Nobody moved for a few moments until Gary came back in and motioned for Sirius to come with him.

"Sirius, it's the Chief Auror. Liz says to look stunned when they tell you what's going on. And not to jump on the Dahn-senge representative they have with them."

Draco saw Sirius give Remus a long look, and once Remus gave a single shallow nod, Sirius turned to go with Gary. He did not look at Draco or Farcourt again, and closed the door behind him. Then Draco saw the unmistakable shimmer of a locking charm on the door. He raised an eyebrow at Farcourt and motioned for Remus to remain where he was as he raised his wand to release the goblin. Remus was standing in front of the fire, arms crossed, and looking fevered in the half-light. Draco wasn't sure if he imagined he heard a growl as the spell disappeared and Farcourt collapsed on the table gasping.

"Now then," started Draco, in overly polite tones, "what is it to be, Sir? Truth or tonic; I believe I left it to you to decide."

"I don't know where…."

Farcourt gave a little squeak as Remus did distinctly growl now and Draco heard him step forward, halting only as Draco held up a finger in a lazy fashion without even turning to look at him. 

"Not good enough, sir. _Why_ did any of this occur at all? And don't you dare tell me you've no idea."

Farcourt mumbled something and now started to wring his hands and tug at his lapels in a nervous fashion. Draco clucked at him.

"Speak up; you're already in for it with your comrades for getting caught. One does not teach DADA without knowing a little bit more than the average wizard about your ways. Of course, I am not completely uncivilised. I could just offer to let you leave with the Dahn-senge representative downstairs right now…."

"NO! Don't!"

Draco did stand up and go over to Remus now.

"Remus, this little bastard probably has no idea where your daughter is. He's nothing; I'm sorry I wasn't able…."

"Draco! This is more than we could hope for in this situation! Find out why he doesn't want the Goblin Council involved; either he's helping a group from Gringotts do something or the Council is in fact behind whatever the hell happened."

Draco considered this, then turned back to Farcourt as something occurred to him.

"Why the Owl Shop?"

"Wh..what?"

"Why was the owl shop destroyed?"

Farcourt seemed to consider his answer a little to long, and Draco finally lost his temper. He lunged forward and grabbed Farcourt by the lapels and pulled him to his feet. With the goblin standing on the table, he was now eye level with Draco.

"In extraordinary situations it is said that ordinary men do extraordinary things. I am telling you this moment that I am _not_ exempt from that, and that in fact I have _far_ less to lose than you might think I do. I believe you yourself commented that some things are only to be expected of me. Shall I live up to my reputation?"

Farcourt shook his head.

"Then let me give you some yes or no questions. I think the event this evening was staged."

Farcourt nodded slightly.

"I will not ask by whom as that is not a yes or no question, and I frankly do not care. But the event was _deliberately_ constructed in front of that owl shop."

"Yes," squeaked Farcourt.

"And there is something valuable _in_ the shop."

Farcourt said nothing. 

"I'll take that as a no, as a refusal on your part would _not_ be a good idea at this point. There is something …."

Remus now came forward and spoke.

"There is something hidden in the owl shop," he stated.

Farcourt started to say something then shook his head, but he looked a little more nervous.

"There is something that the owl shop is _hiding_," continued Remus.

Now Farcourt nodded.

"Do you _know_ what that is?" asked Draco, and had to smile as Farcourt went green again with fear. Draco looked at Remus and smiled slightly. "I think that is a yes," he said, but before he could continue Farcourt spoke up.

"A gate! A gate! But that's of no use to you, as you wizards can't cross it alone, and you can't even find it!"

Draco and Remus both looked at Farcourt and then Draco picked him up bodily and moved to the fire.

"Right, well, as that is the case, you have no more use to us. Good day, Farcourt!" 

Before anything else was said, Draco grabbed some floo powder from a glass jar on the mantle, threw it in the fire and cried out "Malfoy Manor!" before tossing the goblin in the flames. Remus raised an eyebrow at him.

"And the point of that?"

Draco shrugged. "My mother despises goblins. He is not going to have an easy time explaining how the hell he got in the house or convincing her to let him go. An act, I am afraid," said Draco with a sigh, "of pure maliciousness and exasperation on my part."

But when he turned to look at Remus, he was very surprised to see he was smiling,

"What? You heard him. Are you telling me my dear Professor that you know of some means of passing Goblin Gates that the rest of us are uninformed of?"

"Not at all. But just because humans can't get in there unescorted it doesn't mean we are at a dead end. Quite the contrary. But we need Sirius in here…." He started, as he made for the door. As if on cue, Sirius reappeared. He looked first startled then dejected when he saw that the goblin had vanished. Before he could say anything, though, Remus smiled at him and started to speak.

"There's a goblin gate either in the Eeylops Emporium or somewhere behind it, Padfoot. Sounds like they took Roarke and Griffin…."

"And a Muggle."

"What?"

"I've just heard the Ministry's version of events, with Annie and Gary to back them up. Guess who's with them; Billy Stockwell."

Remus looked very surprised at this, Draco noted, but he didn't bother to ask who this Muggle was as he spoke up.

"Well and good, but this still doesn't…."

"Draco, are you forgetting about Padfoot?"

Draco looked at Sirius, who now was actually smiling, but he shook his head. "Black certainly cannot go into somewhere like that on his _own_, and a dog will only have limited success among goblin holes anyway."

"Very true. What creature do you think would be best hunting down goblin holes?"

"Well, griffins, probably as they can smell…treasure…oh, Remus. Bloody brilliant."

Sirius shook his head. "No, now I'm lost."

"Padfoot, surely you remember dear Charles and Elvira. Where are they now, Draco? Do they come to the Manor with you during the holidays anymore?"

"No, they are permanently in the Forrest. We'll have to go find them, of course."

"STOP! Are you two suggesting I take two griffins with me into a goblin hole, two griffins who have _never_ liked me, and hope they can smell out my boy and the others?"

"Not at all," said Remus, almost casually, "I'm suggesting _we_ take the griffins down that hole once we find it. They will be very good for keeping us away from areas with treasure, as that is where the goblins will be, and we will find Roarke and the others."

Sirius gave him a rather dry look.

"Moony, you are overlooking a little fact here; you _can't_ go into that gate."

"_Remus_ can't go into the gate. _Moony_ can," said Remus, even as he turned Sirius to face the window. Sirius gave a barking laugh.

"Moony, please – be sensible. That is the daftest thing you have said in over a decade. I know this is your Firecracker, but I promise…."

"I am perfectly capable of behaving myself under the influence of my medication. The goblins," he said with a growl, "need not know that."

"And if we run into some Aurors? You have an _oath_ signed, on _record_ that you are confined to your home on these evenings!"

"And I am well aware of how hard you have worked to make things better for me, and for others like me, Sirius! But…Sirius, I can't….I can't just let you go without me. I _need_ to go. This is _my baby_ Sirius. And don't you dare joke with me about how old she is now! And besides, Charles and Elvira won't behave for you, you are quite right. So we are at checkmate. I go. Period."

Draco stood there and watched the two men glare at each other for a long while. Finally, Sirius Black blinked. With a loud sigh, he turned from Remus, and looked at Draco.

"Let's you and I go find your…pets…and leave Remus to start figuring out how the hell we are going to get two griffins, a werewolf and a perturbed animagus into an alleyway in the grand old city of London."


	8. Scent of a Witchy Woman

Chapter Seven – Scent of a Witchy Woman

_"Why, what are YOUR__ shoes done with?" said the Gryphon. "I mean, what makes them so shiny?" _

_Alice__ looked down at them, and considered a little before she gave her answer. "They're done with blacking, I believe." _

_"Boots and shoes under the sea," the Gryphon went on in a deep voice, "are done with a whiting. Now you know."_

_"And what are they made of?" __Alice__ asked in a tone of great curiosity. _

_"Soles and eels, of course," the Gryphon replied rather impatiently: "any shrimp could have told you that." _

_"If I'd been the whiting," said __Alice__, whose thoughts were still running on the song, "I'd have said to the porpoise, "Keep back, please: we don't want YOU__ with us!" _

_"They were obliged to have him with them," the Mock Turtle said: "no wise fish would go anywhere without a porpoise." _

_"Wouldn't it really?" said __Alice__ in a tone of great surprise. _

_"Of course not," said the Mock Turtle: "why, if a fish came to ME, and told me he was going a journey, I should say 'With what porpoise?'" _

_`Don't you mean 'purpose'?" said __Alice__. _

_"I mean what I say," the Mock Turtle replied in an offended tone._

_- __Alice__ In Wonderland: Chapter 10 – The Lobster Quadrille_

When Billy Stockwell was an old, old man living quietly in the outskirts of Boston at 'Tranquillity Acres' (or, as many of the locals called it 'Thorazine Acres') he became infamous among the youth brave enough to candystripe there for his story about the time he had a very great and fantastic adventure with an extraordinary and beautiful woman.  He was always careful to point out that certainly she was not as pretty as his wife had been, but he always had a rather wistful look as he gave that polite and politically correct assurance. The young ladies simply smiled at Mr. Stockwell and laughed at the right times and gasped in horror at precisely the moments they knew they should as the gloriously imaginative and totally impossible tale was told. Mr. Stockwell was, after all, their favourite as he had lived in England for many years and had an air of the more antiquated English manners to him.  He called them all 'dears' and 'poppets' and such, and they found it charming, no matter how the medical texts diagnosed his 'deteriorated mental condition due to extreme age'.

Whenever a new girl started the others would 'initiate' her by sending her to sit with Mr. Stockwell for the afternoon, and to listen to his story. The girls themselves never repeated what they had heard, even when asked; they just smiled at their new comrade and sent her to take Mr. Stockwell his tea and wait for him to start.  The neophyte would always feel a slight trepidation at first, not sure what to expect, but inevitably relaxed once Billy Stockwell smiled up at her and his eyes twinkled through their cloudy age. And they would chat of nothing in particular for a while, getting used to each other; the girl always longing to simply ask the old man what his secret story was but not wanting to seem rude.  But at last Mr. Stockwell would set his emptied teacup down, and tell his visitor in low conspiratorial tones that magic was as real as the nose on her face.  And each new candystriper would give a little laugh, and ask him why he was so very sure of such an amazing thing.

And every time Billy Stockwell would smile widely and somewhat mysteriously, lean forward to the edge of his armchair so that he was right up close to his audience, and then whisper his response in that broken way very old men do.

"Because, my dear, it was real magic that turned me into a goblin, once.  But I didn't mind that much, as it served a good purpose."

***

Griffin Black had worked his way slowly around three of the walls of the small room he was locked in before he started to feel more irritated than upset over his situation.  He let out a huff of frustration as he glared at the old bricks inches from his now sweaty face, but managed to stop himself from actually kicking the wall.  Griffin had found no hint of the _pennwij Roarke was certain was inside the walls of the chamber holding them. He had succeeded in managing a light trance, but the only presences he clearly felt at all were his own and Billy and Roarke.  He was beginning to doubt Roarke's suspicions that the __pennwij could even be detected by a wizard at all, but decided to hold his challenge to her logic until after he had finished the last wall._

"Griffin?"

Griffin turned and looked over at Roarke. She was leaning against the far wall with her arms crossed, Billy standing next to her looking far less relaxed. They both seemed rather flat in the blue light cast through the room from the flame balls Roarke had conjured to follow Griffin about.  Roarke and Billy had remained as far from him as possible the entire time he was working, not wanting to get in his way if they could avoid it.  

"What, Firecracker?"

"Take a little break.  You're doing just fine, but you look like it's taking a lot from you."

"All right."

As Griffin turned away again, he heard Billy whisper 'why 'firecracker'?' and Roarke reply in almost inaudible tones, 'I was rather headstrong as a child; now do keep quiet while he works as this is very difficult'. 

Griffin closed his eyes and leaned his head in his arms against the cold surface of the brickwork for a long moment.  He considered that by now, surely, word had reached his mum and dad over what had happened.  Griffin managed a slight smile as he got a mental image of his father giving the Dahn-Senge representative at this scene a rather nasty curse; and then an extremely clear vision his mother forgoing magic completely and simply punching the Goblin Liaison Officer right on the nose. Griffin's childhood may have been rather wild and odd even by wizarding standards, but he never had a single doubt as to how very much his parents loved him, even if they tended to demonstrate it in rather unorthodox ways.  

His father had literally thrown a fit when a note was sent home with Griffin at Christmas of his third year explaining that Griffin may very well have 'The Gift' and it was recommended that he be tutored to manage this talent in addition to the regular Divination classes.  But the next morning Sirius had come down to breakfast all smiles and talking up a storm about how rare real seers were and Griffin should be very proud, utterly confusing his son who was now horrified by the idea that his dad might actually _authorize more schoolwork for him. Griffin had looked at his mother for some sort of support, but Liz was simply busying herself with getting ready for work, not even looking up as Sirius placed a gigantic breakfast in front of her while he continued his dialogue. Liz eventually noticed the heap of food, raised an eyebrow at her husbands back, and then caught Griffin's eye and shrugged with a small smile.  When she kissed Griffin goodbye that morning she whispered not to worry too much about it and to just have fun with his dad, pointing out that this would pass soon enough. _

Sirius had proudly taken Griffin by the hand and together they went down to Diagon Alley and bought a mountain of books and tools for all forms of Divination.  Griffin, flustered and rather taken aback by this development and still completely unconvinced about this 'talent' as Professor Kent called it, had tried to remain as hidden behind his father as he could manage while Sirius followed the owner of 'The All-Knowing Alchemist' around lecturing him not to try and push rubbish off on them, as Sirius bloody well knew better.  The man grew even testier with Sirius after he pointed out loudly that Alchemists had nothing to do with divination, so what was the chap playing at? Griffin only spoke up once, to insist he did **not want the rune set with the mother-of-pearl backing as it was obviously just for show.  The shopkeeper had then looked at him with interest, and asked him to select his own runes.  Griffin stepped up next to Sirius and fixed his eyes on the display case.  It took only seconds for him to find a set made of hematite, and decorated with a simple starburst on the back of each.  His father had grown almost silent after that, and they left shortly afterwards, but not before the crooked little man who ran the place gave Griffin a warm smile and told him to please come back some day and tell him how he was getting on.  **

Liz's only input to this manic adventure had been to gasp when Sirius told her the price of their son's crystal ball and to implore that Griffin _please not break it doing something rash.  For the rest of the afternoon, Sirius had sat with Griffin and told him all about his grandmother's seer abilities, which fascinated him as his father almost never spoke of his own parents. The afternoon ended with Sirius hugging Griffin tightly for a long while in silence, and then he let him go and informed Griffin that if he ever read anything more foreboding than Sirius would wake up the next morning and stub his toe getting out of bed, he was to keep such information to himself._

Despite the shopping spree, however, Sirius had not authorized any 'extra tutoring' for Griffin, stating that Divinations would be quite enough.  Headmistress McGonagall had a faintly amused look to her face when she told Griffin of his father's reply to the suggestion at the start of the next term. 

"Mr. Black, your father is of the opinion that Professor Kent should mind his own business, and has assured me that if the Professor in any way tries to convince you to do anything you are not wanting to do he shall personally come up here and," here the headmistress double-checked the letter in her hand, "ah – yes, and he shall do something rather rude to the fellow's tea-leaves.  You may, Mr. Black, follow your own counsel on this, as your father has complete faith that you have more than enough wits about you to choose your own path wisely. Your father is quite right for demanding you not be pressured into any of this.  I knew your grandmother well, and she was indeed a true seer.  You may very well share that rare gift, but you are far too young for any of us to know for certain. But your grandmother _was forced from an age younger than you are now to develop this talent and it made her quite unhappy. I will recommend to Professor Kent that he abandon any ideas of giving you extra attention, reminding him that I know Sirius Black far better than he does, and that I know better than to take his threats as merely colourful phrasing and that his tea leaves are, in fact, in peril. Now off with you back to the tower."_

***

And so Griffin became the only Gryffindor in possession of an extremely fine crystal ball, which he kept on his dressing table and used to prop up a few pictures and his perpetually dying venus flytrap, as the poor plant tended to list dramatically to one side. Natural curiosity did lead him to read a few of the books, and Griffin explored is own interest in Runes and shamanism over the years.  Scrying and tea leaves remained, in his opinion, utter rubbish and his feelings towards astrology were still not set. 

Griffin started on the last wall now, trying not to let his growing negativity affect him too much.  Sure, a few times he had seemed to simply sense what was going to happen, but he always attributed that to a fine natural sense of self-preservation that benefited anyone prone to adventuring.  Despite this, Griffin was totally unconvinced that he would be able to 'sense' the _pennwij any more than the others could themselves.  _

Forcing a loud huff from his lungs, he started to bring himself back to a light trance and turned the corner to address the last wall.  As he focused his breathing, he glanced once more under his lashes at his companions. Billy continued to gaze at Roarke in a rather stupid fashion that amused Griffin despite the situation.  He decided that the poor Muggle had either simply snapped or Roarke had zapped him with a few cheering charms when he wasn't looking. Roarke looked as she usually did; intense, closed and deceptively laid back. She caught him looking though, and raised a hand from her crossed arms just for a second to point at the wall and nod.

Griffin placed his hands against the stonework once more and began to move slowly forward, dragging his hands along the stone.  Everything felt cold, save for the distant warmth of the two others with him.  His concentration began to break though as he reached the door, and he almost missed it.  He was just about to kick the door once he reached it, and started to turn and opened his mouth to yell at Roarke in frustration when he literally felt a jolt go up his arm.  He froze, his mouth hanging open in astonishment, and gave a slightly strangled gurgle.  Roarke was next to him in an instant, as he knelt and spread his hands out against the bottom of the door, feeling an odd warmth in his fingers.

"Bloody freakin' hell!"

"What is it, Griffin?"

"I…I…something _is in there!  I don't goddamn believe it!"_

"What does it feel like?"

Griffin shook his head and pressed his hands closer to the wood and metal work of the door, leaning in so close now he almost pressed an ear to the spot, half expecting to hear something too.

"Griffin?"

"This is so _weird! I really __do feel something!"_

Roarke gave a small laugh, and Griffin turned to look at her in astonishment over his shoulder.

"Hey, you got the gift, what can I say?"

"Sure thing….But so what?  There's something in the door, but I can't tell you what.  For all we know;" here Griffin frowned and turned to look at the door again, "it could just be a goblin on the other side keeping an eye on things," he now whispered.

Roarke took out her wand and shrugged. "Easy enough to tell.  Back off, Black."

She said an incantation and as Griffin pulled his hands away she swept her wand along the crack under the door.  There was a faint yellow glow as she did this, but nothing else happened.  Roarke smiled at him.

"Nobody there to get burned feet, it would seem. I guess it makes sense that the lock would be in the door."  She stopped talking and looked pensive for a long moment.  

Griffin stood up and leaned an elbow on the wall next to the door. "So now what?"

Roarke took a moment to respond.  Just before she rose herself, though, she gave Billy a very quick glance.  Billy took a step forward, but Roarke turned to face him fully and gave a huge smile.

"Hang on a moment, would you?" she said in very sweet tones that made Griffin smile.  Then she turned to face the opposite wall and waved for Griffin to turn too.  

"You charmed that one, didn't you?"

"Don't be ridiculous.  He's in shock and I don't need to do anything else.  Look; have you ever gone down into the Gringotts vaults with your parents?"

"Um, no actually.  Mum does all the banking on her own."

"Well, most of the vaults the goblins use take those keys everyone has.  But, there are some vaults that _don't take keys.  I spent a few days with Bill Weasley once, as he was showing me around Gringotts.  Some of the vaults have no locks, but the goblins open them by tickling them."_

"Come again?"

"The goblins open these vaults by running their hands over them, honestly.  Mr. Weasely showed one to me; he ran his hands all over it and nothing happened. I asked him how the door was opened, and he explained that these vaults could only be opened by the goblins.  Okay, we didn't really talk about it then, but now that I am thinking about it…I think these doors must have the _pennwij **inside them, and they only recognise the goblins!"  **_

Griffin made a derisive sound. "So what? Great – we can't open the door?  Is that what you're telling me now?"

Roarke turned to look at him and gave a positively wicked grin.  Griffin actually took a step back.

"Listen to this idea, Idiot Boy.  I'm probably going to break a few laws here, but Sirius can handle the repercussions, I'm sure.  Involves a little bit of tricky transfiguration, but I think it will be okay."  Roarke jerked a thumb back in the direction of their hapless Muggle companion. "Griff, remember in transfiguration when you learned about Muggles? About how they can be as easily transfigured as, well, hedgehogs and the like…?"

***

Actually, Griffin's moment of second sight he experienced in the bowels of London was more attuned than he knew at that time, as there had been a bit of a scene at the Black household when the Ministry and Goblin officials arrived to 'explain the situation'.  Only he was still a little off (but it was only to be expected from one so young yet).  The actual Goblin hexing had been done by Draco Malfoy, and Sirius had managed to grab Liz's hand in time before she got her left around to hook the Goblin Liaison Officer

Once the officials had settled into talking details over what was being done with Liz Black, Sirius Black had excused himself for a moment and, as soon as he was out of sight of the others, ran back to his study.  Once there, he had (completely against his better judgement) agreed to an insane plan with Remus and Draco Malfoy to get his son and Remus' daughter back.  Certainly he had heard nothing from the officials that was more comforting.  Once he agreed, he went back out to the front hall to give every appearance of being a well-behaved and law-abiding citizen.  He accepted the assurances of the Ministry and Dahn-senge official that this was their top priority and that his and Mr. Lupin's children were certainly not in any real harm and would be home soon.  He even managed to smile as he sent them out into the night, resisting the urge to slam the door.  However, once the door was shut he stayed there a moment and considered how he was going to break the news to his wife that they had a plan.

"Sirius, I'm going to the Lupins this instant to be with Katie."

Sirius spun and started to say something, but Liz held up her hand to stop any comment.

"Don't make me an accomplice in anything.  If you and Remus and Draco screw it up, I'll need to remain on this side of a holding cell with Katie so we can settle it ourselves."

Sirius shut his mouth and nodded.  Then he glanced around the front hall and frowned. 

"Where are Annie and Gary, Lizzy?"

Liz looked about herself for a moment, then shrugged. "No doubt gone to be with Katie, since they gave their version of events.  As to that disgusting, evil little…."

"Draco sent him to his house.  Sent him to Narcissa."

Liz actually managed a laugh and started to move towards the stairs.

"I almost pity the wretch. Is there anything I need to know?"

Sirius considered this a moment, then shook his head. "Tell Katie we love her very much and will be home soon.  All of us."

Liz gave him a large smile and blew him a kiss as she turned on the landing and made for their parlour.

"Certainly. It's been a while since us old folks had such an adventure!  I love you too, you lunatic."

Sirius laughed as he followed her up the stairs and went in the opposite direction.  He spun on his heels as he walked and called out "isn't Remus the lunatic of this outfit?" but Liz ignored him as she vanished, on her way to Dartmoor.

Sirius came back into the study and slammed the door. Remus had left, no doubt to go and start to examine the alleyway with the goblin gate. Draco Malfoy remained, but did not so much as flinch and looked at Sirius expectantly.

"Right, Malfoy.  This is insane, but I want my boy back.  And if Remus gets into trouble…."

Irritably, Draco pulled his cloak back over his shoulders and said "_Why would I want Remus in trouble?"_

Sirius sighed and crossed his arms to hold himself back.  "You don't. I know that.  We've never gotten along, but I know you don't want…. This is insane, you know that?"

Draco hesitated, then smiled at Sirius. "Indeed it is.  But good lord, Black; this is about Roarke and …and Griffin…." He added softly.  He stopped speaking as Sirius groaned. 

"Stop it!  Yes, I want my boy back and my firecracker back more than anything…but don't you think you and I are a tad too old for this sort of nonsense?"

Draco, to Sirius' astonishment, burst out laughing, and took a while to recover. Absently Sirius processed the fact that he had known Draco for going on 30 years practically, and had never once seen the man laugh like this.  Finally, shaking his head and wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands, Draco managed to stop laughing as he moved to the fire.

"Sorry.  Really, sorry, Black.  We _are old enough to know better, but I can't for the life of me seeing that stopping us.  A actually agree with you that essentially our going down there is madness; I mean, for the past decade I, you and Remus have been the models of respectable aging wizards.  You with your law practice, Remus with his volumes of scholarly books, and I with my teaching.  How very dull we have become! However, as I told Farcourt, extraordinary circumstances call for extraordinary actions.  Clearly something far beyond a little squabble is going on with the goblins, as I said, and they may have… plans for the children.  Why would they have taken them otherwise? Tell me one instance when a goblin did anything without purpose." Here Draco raised a pale eyebrow at Sirius, and Sirius gave him a dark scowl back._

"Exactly.  Now, to the griffins. Just a moment…."  Draco stepped to the fireplace and tossing some floo powder in, called for Peliah.  After a long moment she appeared, looking somewhat frazzled.  Draco frowned.

"My dear, everything alright?"

Peliah scowled at him.

"Your mum has gone mad, Draco.  The moment that goblin fell out of the fire into her card party.  Did you know you she had guests this evening?  You have the top Death Eater Widows in the land currently hexing every corner of this house.  They accidentally turned Quack into a sea slug; I've fixed him, but you know house-elves tend to have delicate constitutions.  He's pulled his jumper over his head and is squatting in a corner of the kitchens moaning in a very pathetic fashion."

"He'll come round.  Look, do me a favour will you and get my broom and bung it over to me, will you?"

Peliah's head gave him a hard look, but vanished.  Sirius watched Draco simply stand there and tap his foot as they waited, then a broom came out of the fire and Peliah reappeared.

"What are you up to, Draco?"

"Nothing you need know, my love.  Keep the house intact, won't you?  Shall I alert the Ministry?"

"Don't be inane.  Send Malcolm if you can find him; he'll be enough to scare some sense into them and will keep his mouth shut."  Peliah now looked around the room and it was clear she saw Sirius. "Where's Remus?" she asked curtly.

"Busy with something; we'll meet up with him shortly.  Do be good."

"**You are telling ****me to be good?  Shall I tell you to act your age?"**

"Black and I have had that debate, so no.  See you soon."

Peliah gave him one final odd look, and then vanished.  As her head went from view, Sirius thought he heard some muffled cries of both goblin and female human origin from the fire.  

Draco stepped back and took the edge of his cloak to wipe down his broom and remove the soot from the fire. "Where's your broom, Black?"

"Bugger _my broom," said Sirius, looking at Draco's exceptionally fine German racing broom. "Hang on."_

Sirius ran out to the stairway, and went up the stairs two at a time until he reached the top flight where his son occupied the house.  Sirius and Liz had given him the entire floor, seeing as they had far more room than they needed, and now Sirius ran from room to room looking for Griffin's broom.  Despite his son's utter loathing of flying, Sirius still insisted he have the very best broom there was.  But finding where the boy had stuck it was another thing.  It didn't occur to Sirius to turn on the lights until he smashed into something and heard several loud crashes.  

"_Lumos!_

Griffin's crystal ball and three picture frames lay in shards on the floor.  Sirius cursed himself for insisting Griffin bring the damn crystal ball home with him each break, and tried to convince himself Liz wouldn't kill him when she considered that this accident had occurred while Sirius was under great duress, but most likely he was in for it.  And Griffin would be furious as well, considering that one of the pictures that had been damaged in the crash was his favourite one of he and Annie.

But Sirius noticed Griffin's broom standing in a corner at this moment, and simply grabbed it and ran back down the stairs.  Draco clucked when he saw it.

"You've an _Icarus GL V6?"_

"It's Griffin's," replied Sirius irritably.  Draco looked even more sarcastic at that.

"Griffin hates flying and you get him…."

"Yes, Malfoy, that will do," yelled Sirius. "What now?  Flying to Hogwarts…."

Draco shook his head and took out his wand.

"Don't be daft, Black.  It's far to long a trip to fly to Hogwarts.  We're going to Apparate to Hogsmead, and then fly into the Forest to find Charles and Elvira. Honestly."

Sirius growled, and took out his own wand. 

"Shut up, Malfoy. _Apparate!"_

***

Annie and Gary had not gone to the Lupins.  They had, without anyone noticing, followed Sirius back to his study amidst the hubbub and hovered outside in the corridor, listening to every word of the adults' plotting.  When Sirius had come back out to return to the front hall and see off the official party, they had flattened themselves against the wall in the shadows and remained very still.  

They stayed there without talking, as the rest of the running about had gone on.  They saw Liz appear at the far end of the corridor and vanish herself, telling Sirius she was going to the Lupin home.  Then heard Sirius and Professor Malfoy talking and arguing in turns, watched Sirius run upstairs only to reappear with Griffin's hated broom in one hand, and then the house fell silent after a few more moments.  

Gary leaned forward to peer through the crack of the door into Sirius' study to make certain Sirius and Professor Malfoy were in fact gone.  He took Annie's arm and moved forward once he was certain the coast was clear, and they moved into the study themselves.

Annie spoke first.

"They are insane!" she said angrily. "Honestly!  Daddy still thinks he needs to save the universe or something! And Sirius letting him!"

Gary stared off into space and seemed to be thinking about something. Annie was not happy he gave no response to her observations.

"Gary!"

"Annie, it actually isn't such a bad idea…."

"WHAT? Don't be mad. We've got to get mummy.  She will explode….."

"Hang on, Annie; you do that and your mum _will stop them.  But…well, they are right; they will have much better luck and certainly faster results doing this on their own."_

"Gary Weasely, you have lost it.  I don't care how amazing daddy and the others were when they were _younger!  Sirius himself pointed out that they have spent the last decade or so puttering about….."_

Gary laughed, and Annie glared at him.

"Annie; listen to you.  Your dad would be very hurt to hear you call him so decrepit, I think."

"Daddy is NOT decrepit!  He IS a …a… he's a werewolf, Gary! He can't run about like this!  You don't understand!" Annie looked as if she might cry again, and looked around the room helplessly.

"I know what Remus faces; I know he wouldn't do this for anything less important. So do you.  I guess….I guess the question is what can _we do to help?"_

Annie thought about this for a few moments, her hands on her hips as she chewed her lower lip nervously and tried to not cry.  Finally she sighed.

"You know there's a reason the hat put me in Ravenclaw, you clot," she said irritably. "I _don't want anything to happen to my sister, or to Griffin…." She hesitated and Gary smiled at her._

"No, nor do I. Well, as a Gryffindor, may I make a suggestion?"

"Why do I feel this doesn't involve getting any more grownups?"

"Because you know me well.  We can't, well, **do anything as that will get the Ministry on us.  But, we _can keep an eye on things.  If anything gets really out of hand, we go straight to your mum or my Uncle. How does that sound?"_**

Annie considered this. "By keeping an eye out you mean…?"

"We know where that goblin gate is.  We hang out there, and make sure Remus, Sirius and Professor Malfoy get in it, as they think they can.  If it looks like anything goes wrong, we go right to the Leaky Cauldron and summon help."

"Sounds alright.  But we need to be really careful; if we get too close, Daddy will know.  He can smell us, remember.  And another thing; it's a while until this happens.  Where do we say we're off to?  My mum is probably already looking for me."

"So's mine.  We try an age-old dodge.  You tell your mum you're at my house, I tell my parents I'm at yours.  Considering all that is going on right now, we should be okay for a while with that."

Annie gave a laugh. "Gary, when trouble hits the first thing my mum does is a head count.  I'm not there, she knows it."

"Well, then, we go to your house and you look her in the eye and tell her you're going to be at my house.  Think that would work?"

"No.  But what would work would be to be very close for a while, then fade into the background while she's busy with other things.  You come with me, so if Hermione and Ron ask, she'll say that you're with me."

Gary grinned. "You have spent too much time with Griffin, haven't you?"

Annie didn't smile, and only said quietly "not nearly enough.  Come on, let's get back to the house and set up an alibi. So much for quiet Ravenclaws."

***


	9. Beguilement & Broomsticks

Chapter Eight – Beguilement & Broomsticks

What the rulebook says

will change; in time, all ink is

disappearing ink.

_- verse 91; 101 Corporate Haiku; William Warriner_

***

Remus Lupin quietly made his way down a darkened Muggle alley, impressed that the Ministry had managed to put it back to rights so quickly.  Indeed not a single owl feather remained to be seen, and the tiny dirty door with the small sign reading 'Deliveries – Please Knock' was back against a solid brick wall he now knew to be connected to Eeylops'.  The pavement in the alleyway ended several metres in from the sidewalk, transitioning into the wild cobbling favoured on wizard roads. Remus assumed at this point he had reached an area guarded heavily by charms to dissuade the Muggles.  No doubt to their eyes this passage ended at this point, but Remus could easily see it went on for a while. There were some things, though, that the wizards could not cover or simply didn't think to bother with.  The smell of goblins was strong, but not so strong that Remus couldn't also pick out the faint traces of his daughter as well.

Trying to keep his mind calm as he searched the alley, he absently mulled over the fact that even as his children had aged, their scents remained essentially the same from the day they were born.  He had expected them to smell like Katie or himself, but they each were unique and each one of them had quickly figured that out.  The games of cat and mouse one generally played with one's parents took on interesting twists at the Lupin home as a result since the children knew they had to contend with their father's heightened senses.  Scented candles seemed to become a popular item for a while and Remus was just daft enough that it took him a few months before he figured out what the little darlings were up to.  And his colds were greeted with cheers on more than one occasion.  Remus gave up trying to act dignified and offended by such goings on, as he knew better, though he would put on a great display of 'head of the house' once things reached a certain fever pitch. 

Remus stopped a bit back from the line where the tarmac ended and leaned against the wall trying to look like a casual, if rather shady, Muggle. Katie had not asked him, thank goodness, why he had come home to change into rather worse-for-wear Muggle clothes before he set off to do whatever he was up to.  To add to his look of 'civilian layabout', he had also snagged something from his study on his way back to London.  Remus reached into his pocket and slowly took out an old pack of cigarettes; they had been confiscated from a highly indignant Roarke a few years back.  She had stormed out of his study after his lecture on her health only to reappear a while later with an old box.  This was dropped on Remus' desk, opened, and then his daughter whipped out a highly incriminating picture of himself, James Potter and Houghton Adams lying about on the grass behind the Quidditch pitch at Hogwarts drinking butterbeers and smoking.  Remus hadn't blinked, and simply told his daughter that that picture was taken when he was 17, so she could come back for the cigarettes in two years.  Roarke never did reclaim the property, but when she was seventeen she had sent him a howler on the anniversary of their 'chat' calling him a total hypocrite but saying she loved him anyway.

Remus smiled softly at the memory as he lit one of the pieces of contraband and gazed about slowly trying to make out any personal wards concealing an Auror set to watch the site.  Certainly there had to be Aurors about keeping an eye things, and Remus couldn't afford to get caught.  He had only limited time where he could pull off this particular ruse before someone came for a closer look and discovered what he really was. At the very least, his actions would probably keep the goblins away from him if _they came about, as they most likely didn't want to risk running into any human right now, wizard or Muggle. Remus coughed lightly at the smoke, but knew he didn't have to really inhale.  It no longer seemed as fanciful as it had at 17, but it wasn't that bad, though there was no mistaking that these were particularly stale from age.  _

Still keeping carefully on the Muggle side of the alley Remus paced a bit, always watching the other side out of the corner of his eye.  There were no obvious Aurors lurking about, and Remus couldn't see an evidence of alarm spells.  It was possible, though doubtful, that they simply left the site once they repaired it and would only be back during the day to inspect everything.  Or, lastly, they had no intelligence concerning the door and were working under the assumption the goblins that had fled with Roarke, Griffin and Billy were far from this place.  Or they could have been deliberately _told this was the case by the Dahn-Senge council.  None of them had any clear idea as to what was really going on with the goblins and Gringotts._

Unfortunately, but not unexpectedly, there was absolutely no hint of any goblin-gate.  Remus had hoped that since he technically wasn't a human he would at least be able to see a trace of something; but even to him there was nothing out of the ordinary.  He carefully made note of the size of the alley, of the windows on the Muggle buildings in front of the barrier, and the brickwork walls of the buildings.  That was a stroke of luck at least; passing through concrete to get into the alley was a lot trickier than pealing back brickwork. Once he was done with the cigarette Remus turned and went back to the main street.  Still no sign of wizards anywhere, but Remus had been involved with too much over his life to simply accept the Aurors left _no alarms about._

_"Signum Lupin"_

Remus whispered the spell to cast his own marker on the place, in case the Ministry came back soon to cloak the area or worse, to make it unplottable.  That always had disastrous effects on the Muggle traffic, but the Ministry had taken the precaution a few times when the situation was dire enough. He then apparated home to think of their next moves.

The light was on in the kitchen, and Remus could hear Katie and Liz talking with Malcolm. 

Remus couldn't bring himself to involve Malcolm in what he was about to do.  Were there to be any repercussions, he did not want his son's career to be jeopardized, and Malcolm was already on shaky ground with the Department of Mysteries simply because he was Remus' son.  It had taken a lot of lobbying from Minerva, Draco and Dexter Tanner himself to assure Malcolm was offered a position as an Auror-in-training; a position anyone else with his marks and test scores wouldn't have even had to ask for.  Malcolm had, essentially, begged to be offered the job and most likely would be 'on approval' his entire career.  Remus was damned if he was going to do a single thing to hurt Malcolm.

Eager to hear if there was any new news about what had happened, Remus practically ran into the kitchen.  Malcolm caught his eye immediately and Remus actually stopped in his tracks at the expression on his son's face.  Malcolm looked uncharacteristically livid, and he pursed his lips so tightly for a moment white lines appeared around his mouth.  Then he stood up to face Remus and spoke in an overly controlled tone.

"Where have you been?"

"Malcolm?"

Malcolm seemed to literally explode as he started waving an angry hand at his father, punching the air sharply for emphasis as he continued.

"_Where have you __been? What on EARTH could have been more important than being __here, with your __family, as we are trying to deal with this situation?  You just __left Mum? No!  Don't even __try to say anything right now, as I have a __damn good idea what you may have been about and I am telling you __right now that you are to leave this alone, and let __us deal with it!"_

Remus kept silent, and gave Katie a glance.  His wife was looking at Malcolm with a semi-shocked expression, obviously as taken aback by her son's outburst as Remus was.  Well, they both well knew that Malcolm had a terrible temper when he finally got angry over something, but it still startled them when he let go like this.  

"Malcolm, sweetie, your father…."

Katie stopped as Malcolm turned to her and just held up a finger to silence her.  She did, however, give him a rather startled and somewhat appalled look. Even Liz gave Malcolm a rather hard stare as he silenced his mother.

"Mum, don't.  I know how the various brains running about here work.  So, may I say, does Mr. Tanner," added Malcolm, in a quieter but still cross voice.  He looked back at Remus.

"The Ministry is dealing with this; most of the Department of Mysteries and a significant portion of the Department of Magical law Enforcement.  And, what you can't know yet, since you were _out…is that the Dahn-Senge is also working with us collaboratively.  We are not sure what is happening just yet, but the Goblin Council is __not happy, and the fact that whoever is causing this mess has done something that so deeply drags the Wizards into it all has basically got us a guarantee from them that Roarke, Griffin and that Stockwell Muggle will be returned post-haste."_

"I'm sure they want to do that so we will 'back off' them as soon as possible," commented Remus.  Malcolm nodded and his shoulders softened a bit as he sighed.

"Yes, for the most part.  I think that this is very good news for us, of course, but I need to know….I need to know that you and Sirius will _let us do our jobs and not interfere. I can imagine that this is driving you as mad as it is making me.  Probably more," he added, now giving a very shaky smile to his parents.  Katie nodded, but managed to smile back at him.  _

"Malcolm…."

Again Malcolm signalled for silence and Remus immediately shut up, waiting to hear what Malcolm had to say.

"Look, Dexter Tanner and I had a bit of a talk about this.  He's going to let me stay on this project, despite the fact that as a rule family are not permitted to participate in investigations involving relatives.  I want you, _and Sirius, to recognise that as the peace offering Mr. Tanner intends it to be – he seems rather convinced that you two will take this whole thing into your own hands.  I protested a bit, but he seems to be of the opinion that he knows you better than I do when it comes to this sort of thing, and considering your histories together through two wars, I will give him that point.  So, promise me this; stay out of this for the next few days! Besides," and now Malcolm gave another ghost of a smile, "it's the full moon tomorrow.  You can't go roaming about then anyway, can you?  So this really shouldn't be a difficult thing to promise me…."_

Remus looked at his son's expectant face, and remembered that he promised himself he would never do anything he could avoid to endanger Malcolm's future.  And Remus, breaking the very laws he had helped to create regarding the rights of werewolves, would not be helping.  But, if Malcolm knew nothing, and could swear that he knew nothing, even if Remus were caught, he would be in the clear.

"Malcolm, I promise I won't cause trouble after the full moon."

Malcolm looked up at him and finally smiled.  Then he gave Remus' clothes a rather pointed glance.

"Dad, what on Earth are you doing dressed like some tramp?"

Remus looked down and frowned. "These are my gardening clothes!"

"You're gardening at this hour? And I thought Annie told you you could never wear that shirt in her presence again."

"Malcolm, is there anything else the Ministry knows?" asked Remus, anxious to know more of what was happening and anxious to get Malcolm off of his current line of questioning.

"No, Remus-love," said Katie sadly, but she did manage a smile. "But I did have a short conversation with Dexter in addition to Malcolm's news. The Dahn-Senge _is actually being co-operative over this matter; seems there really is more than a little fury over the kidnapping."_

"Goblins don't like to involve wizards in their arguments, if they can avoid it," sighed Liz. "But they've done just that.  Seems the official feeling on that is total outrage.  And, Dexter was reasonably emphatic that whoever has done this, well, the kidnapping, did it on a whim for the purpose of getting out of that Alley.  Seems convinced the children may simply 'turn back up' on their own."

Malcolm gave a chuckle even as he stood and then drained a mug he picked up from the table.

"Thanks for the tea, Mum, but I need to get back now."  Here Malcolm looked at Remus and said, pointedly, "you look like you could use a mug yourself."

Remus smiled grimly as he crossed his arms and looked at the slate floor. "Malcolm, I'm …I'll be…fine.  As soon as I get my child back, and those goblins learn a damn good lesson!" Remus saw Liz cringe a bit at this, but she settled down with a set look quickly enough.

Malcolm turned to look back over his shoulder even as he raised his wand to Apparate.

"Dad; don't worry too much about it.  Very, very talented people are working on bringing them all back safely.  Honestly, you _do sound rather like you're going to have some sort of middle-age crisis and bound off yourself to put it all right promise or not!"_

Katie and Liz both gave Remus amused looks, but thankfully kept silent as Remus returned their gaze with a 'my-son-still-thinks-I'm-sensible-so-just-hush-up' expression.

"I really never saw myself as one prone to panicking over my grey hair," was all he said in a very casual voice.  

Malcolm did laugh, and then said "Look, I need to go and speak with Draco. He helped me with something a while back that just _might be a clue as to what is going on. Tell Sirius to settle down as well when he gets back from setting fire to the Dahn-Senge offices and explain to him that he is __also not to go running off into the night with his wand raised high.  Honestly; you two let us do our jobs; we __can do this without the Wonder Wizard Twins."_

Malcolm gave his dad one final smile. "I'll send word as soon as I hear anything. Bye mum, bye Liz!" And Malcolm was gone with a whispered spell and a flick of his wand.

After his son had vanished, Remus went over and kissed Katie then squeezed Liz's hand as he sat down between them. "Is Dexter really that optimistic?"

"He is, love."

Liz seemed to want to say something, but just then Katie sat straight up with a worried expression.

"Liz, where is Annie? You said she was at your house, but I didn't see her come back here with you!"

Remus was on his feet immediately, moving towards the kitchen door, where he promptly ran directly into Gary Weasley who was just coming in.  Annie was right behind him.

"Gary!  Sorry!"

"No problem, Remus.  I'm afraid we dozed off in the living room; just woke up and saw the time…."

"And worried that there may be a bit of a fuss 'cause the Weasleys don't know he's here," finished Annie.  She gazed quietly at her dad and then noticed his shirt.

"Ugh, haven't you _burned that thing, Daddy?"_

Remus ignored her and shooed the children into the kitchen in front of him. "We've just been talking with Malcolm.  The Ministry is going full out to find Roarke and Griffin…."

"And Billy!" added Gary.

"Yes, and Mr. Stockwell.  He may be most relieved of all to be rescued, not so much from being harassed by creatures that don't exist in his mind but from being cooped up with Roarke and Griffin.  They do tend to argue in a rather spectacular fashion."

Annie glowered and sat on the chair with her mother.

"Roarke claims he's the irascible one, but she seems to be the instigator of their quarrels."

Remus and Liz shared an amused glance, but then Remus turned back to Gary.

"Thanks very much for looking after Annie, but we had better get you home immediately; your parents are probably going mad wondering where you are."

"Actually, Remus, Katie; if it's all the same, I'd rather stay here, if I might," Gary said, giving Annie a small look.  Annie smiled back at him.

"Well of course, if that's alright with your family." 

"I'm sure they won't mind." Remus nodded at Gary, and laughed to himself at the sight of the decidedly Weasley face gazing at him with the Granger expression of calm determination.  Gary was a rock, and having him about the house would most likely be a boon to the situation.  At the very least, it would distract Annie so she would have no idea as to what he and Sirius and Draco were up to.

How Remus was going to distract his wife was going to be another matter entirely. But as he watched Annie and Gary, he suddenly had an idea; a good idea, a Marauder-worthy idea. An idea he would hear about for the rest of his life, but it was worth it.

***

Sirius groaned as he and Draco Apparated into the Three Broomsticks and Sirius looked out the window.  It was a positive blizzard outside, and the wind was so bad it rattled the frames of the windows.

"Why, _Professor!"_

Sirius turned to see that Seamus Finnegan was looking at Draco from behind the bar and waving him over.

"What'cha doing back up here, Malfoy?  Thought you were away for the holidays."

Draco nodded and asked for two butterbeers, "I am. But something has demanded I come back here for a bit."  At that he leaned forward and spoke to his former classmate very quietly for a few moments.  Sirius saw Seamus look up at him and then burst out laughing.

"Oi, Black!  You are a mad old fellow aren't you?  Ah well, drink up!  At least you'll be a _little warmer!"_

Sirius came up to the bar and gave Draco a suspicious look, but Malfoy simply raised his glass in a toast and started to drink. It seemed from Finnegan's reaction that the news of what had happened in London earlier had, somehow, not already been spread among the community.  That did make Sirius feel somewhat better, for if he and Draco were seen together, and the situation known, suspicions would immediately arise.  But if the owner of the Three Broomsticks hadn't an idea of the incident, then it was pretty safe to say the Ministry had successfully locked down for a while. Whatever Draco had said to Finnegan to explain their being here, it obviously amused the man rather than worried him.

 Sirius looked back at Seamus and smiled.

"How are you then, Finnegan?"

"Beamin' and happy," smiled Seamus. "And keeping a close eye on that little chap you sent up here...oh!"  Seamus noticed the broom Sirius held now, and actually started to chuckle, and traded a knowing look with Draco.

"An Icarus!  Barrington's close to banning those from the school; keep throwing the younger ones who have managed t'convince their Da they can handle them.  He swears he's going to write t'the company and tell them they mustn't allow anyone _not a professional Quidditch player to have one.  Too powerful, ya know."  Again Seamus gave Draco a smirking look and Sirius saw Draco grin into his drink.  Sirius was increasingly curious as to what Malfoy had said to Finnegan, but he just shrugged._

"It's Griffin's.  But he refuses to use it, so I guess he is safe from the Flying Instructor."

Seamus laughed harder. "Sirius Black, yer boy hates the air and you give him **that?  Typical!  But … _you were a champion for Gryffindor, were you not?"_**

Seamus now had a rather shrewd look Sirius didn't particularly like, but he just smiled and nodded.  "Well, I was a beater my last 4 years.  And we did win the Quidditch Cup the last two years I played.  But that was mostly James Potter's doing."

Seamus nodded and smiled, and winked at Draco. "Listen ta that! A humble beater!  Forgive me, Black, but I spent a long time with the Weasley twins as the house beaters, and to hear them tell it every victory was thanks t'them!"

Both Draco and Seamus now roared with laughter.

"Drink up, Black," said Draco when he had stopped laughing. "You'll need that for what we're going to do."

Sirius drank the butterbeer in silence, still suspicious and watching closely as Draco and Seamus chatted about school gossip while he finished.  Once he put down the glass, he went for his pocket, but Seamus shook his head.

"That one's on the house, Black, for the honour of Gryffindor House.  Try not t'make us look too bad, promise?"  Sirius was now seriously annoyed as Seamus and Draco snickered again, but only said 'thanks' and followed Draco out the door.

"What was THAT about then?"

Draco looked non-plused at Sirius's tone and merely gave a small smile.

"Well, I had to give an excuse for our being here, didn't I?  I told him you and I had a bet as to who could finish the training course at the Quidditch pitch first; that we had argued over who was a better flyer, the seeker or the beater."

"So my ongoing image as a juvenile delinquent is intact?" grumbled Sirius, as they set off down the street.

"Oh, I assured Finnegan we were both rather drunk and just having a laugh.  But he seems to be of the opinion you will be flattened."

Sirius simply pulled his hood up over his head and kept his thoughts to himself now as he and Draco walked to the edge of Hogsmead and took off up the road towards Hogwarts, and the Dark Forest.  After they were well clear of the lights of the town, despite the fact that they seemed to be the only two daft enough to be out in the snow, they stopped and prepared to mount their brooms.

"Right.  I have a general idea of where Charles and Elvira are, and I think we can safely assume they will be in cover in this maelstrom.  They will, however, take notice of us if we fly about long enough and certainly one or both will come to greet me.  Let me take the lead, Black.  I do need you here to help me obscure them as we fly back to London, but I would not recommend that you try to do anything I don't first ask you to, once I have their permission.  Right?"

Draco casually leaned forward slightly and rose to hover a few feet above the ground before he glanced back at Sirius and waved his hand for Sirius to get a move on.  Sirius gave him a bit of a glare, but held his tongue.  Considering the last time he had infuriated the griffins they had bit the hell out of his ankles, and at that time they were each only the size of a small cat, Draco was right to caution him against upsetting anything that was now most likely the size of Griffin's first pony and could bite far worse areas of his anatomy with ease. Sirius jumped onto the Icarus and immediately wished he hadn't seemed quite as eager as the broom incorrectly assumed that this meant he was ready to shoot up into the stratosphere.  Sirius managed to wrench the broom to a stop about 50 feet from the ground, but he swore to himself as he lurched a bit, holding the broom in place. The broom seemed to want to make up for the two years it had spent in the corner, unloved and unwanted.

Draco flew past Sirius a few seconds later, pointing in the direction of the western part of the forest. With the slightest encouragement from Sirius, the Icarus shot off in the general direction Draco pointed.  It took Sirius a few minutes to get the feel for the broom, but once he determined how incredibly sensitive it was to his slightest suggestion, he had it flying well, and was lapping Malfoy.  He glanced over his shoulder at his companion, barely seen as a dark shadow in the heavy snowfall, and now grinned as that mark fell further back.  Sirius spotted where Malfoy was and then directed the Icarus to execute a near perfect loop-de-loop that landed Sirius back at Malfoy's side, in perfect tandem with Malfoy.

Draco seemed to pay Sirius no attention, and pushed his own broom on at a faster pace now, and dove down to sail along the roadway that led to the edge of the forest.  Not wanting to be shown up by Draco, Sirius followed, and again quickly outpaced the other flyer.  This time Sirius turned sharply to the right and executed a zigzag pattern that once more brought him to Draco, this time face to face with the man who now sat on his immobile broom, hovering about 100 feet over the ground at the very edge of the forest.

Draco managed, even in the near blizzard conditions, to look faintly bored and terribly well mannered.  He gave Sirius his customary sliver of a smile that warned those in the know that he was about to say something rather pithy, even though he had to shout in this instance to be heard rather than simply purr his observation as was his custom.

"Well, not bad for an old Beater, Black.  Still, it's interesting to note that Beaters seem to have had a universal style for generations; choppy, heavy and showy."

Sirius couldn't stop himself from bellowing back, "of course we fly heavier than you Seeker prats!  We're trying to stop YOU from being FLATTENED!"  Black removed a hand for a moment to try and get his soaking hair out of his eyes, but re-grabbed the handle of the impossibly powerful broom as it immediately listed to the left dangerously and started to pick up speed.  He did manage to pull it around in an elegant turn quickly enough, but Malfoy had started off again, now diving like a rocket right at the roof of the forest, and – _Blast him! - laughing.  And he also made an exaggerated show of pulling one hand away to signal Black to follow him._

"Right, Malfoy; that's it.  Bloody Seekers always think the rest of us are just sort of _there…!"_

It occurred to Sirius all of a sudden that he had no idea how they were going to locate the griffins, particularly in the current weather.  Draco, however, did seem to know where he was going as he set a very deliberate course.  They had now come to fly only a few feet from the tops of the trees, and Sirius noticed Draco peering down from time to time, seeming to try and see something in the darkness sailing past beneath them.  

They made two passes at the western edge of the forest, Draco actually flying lower each time.  By the time Sirius had been smacked about the head by the seventh rather heavy branch that Draco seemed to be charming out of his path and snapping back to whack Sirius, he'd absolutely had enough of this particular wacky race.

Sirius aimed his broom and shot away ahead of Draco, and then plunged into an open clearing ahead of them in the forest.  He did a quick circle of the clearing, but saw nothing out of the ordinary, and decided to take a quick rest.  Pulling up sharply at the edge of the forest he looked up to spot Malfoy.  Malfoy shot across the clearing above him, but at the last moment pulled his broom to circle in an upside-down loop and come back to the centre of the open space.  Sirius watched as Malfoy seemed to be yelling at him, and opened his mouth to tell him to shut up.

The only sound that came from Sirius Black, however, was a loud 'ooph!' as something surged from the ground below him and knocked him clear off his broom to fall several metres to the forest floor. The wind was knocked from him, but Sirius was spared serious injury by having landed in a large pricker bush.  He lay there for a moment, catching his breath, and then registered where he was and struggled to free himself from the thorns of the shrub.  Sirius managed to wrench himself from the bush, and as he fell to the proper forest floor, considered for a moment that he could have spared himself this decidedly uncomfortable and undignified broom dismount by drawing his wand.  As he fell down into a shallow snow drift, however, he became resolved to the fact that this was a moot point.

Sirius shook himself off and jumped to his feet, shaking his head and flinging snow and twigs from himself as he now tried to get his wand out.  His hand hadn't quite closed on the handle though when he was once more face down on the forest floor, and this time with two heavy, clawed feet on his back and a growling sound of an incredibly displeasing timbre in his ear.  Instinctively Sirius froze even as he began to catalogue all of the beasties loose in this place that may possess the attributes that were presenting themselves.  The growl, however, switched to a chirrupy gurgle and the feet came off his back.  Sirius pushed himself onto his knees slowly and glanced over his shoulder.

Draco stood a bit away, orbs of blue flame hovering over his slowly shaking head and flanked by two very large griffins.  He said nothing, only gave Sirius an expectant look.  Sirius cleared his throat, wiped his hands off on his robe front, noted this only made them filthier, and then stood up.

"Well, they have grown a bit, haven't they?"

"Indeed.  Still don't like you very much, though.  Long memories, these fellows."

"Whatever.  Can…how do you communicate to them?"

Draco looked rather surprised and glanced at Charles and Elvira in turn.  They each gave a bleat and simultaneously leaned up against each side.  Sirius looked openly surprised.

"They're telepathic?"

Draco did laugh at that and rapped his arms around their necks to give them a hardy pat then stepped away.

"Nonsense.  They do understand speech to a certain extent.  Rather like…well, rather like very well trained dogs, you know." Sirius didn't miss how the magic illumination made Draco's smirk all that more well defined.

"Lovely," he growled. "Then tell them to 'heel' and let's get back to London immediately.  Best we finish moving them before first light, don't you think?"

Draco nodded, and he bent over and straightened with his and Sirius' brooms in each hand. 

"Actually, I have a question that perhaps you and I should have discussed before we reached this point."

"What _now, Malfoy?"_

"Where the bloody blazes are we going to _keep the little dears until tomorrow night?  We can't have them where the Ministry may get wind of them, and they are not exactly easily shut up in a small space."_

Sirius did think about this for a long moment.

***

Sirius and Draco peered from the bushes of the small walled garden at the centre of the posh housing block near Pall Mall in St. James.  They saw nobody about, and the faint sounds of traffic suggested that they would have a few clear minutes at least to get across the road with the griffins and then get into the house.  Provided, of course, that cousin Harold could be persuaded.

Sirius flicked his wand and opened the garden gate, waving Draco after him.  As the griffins sauntered from the lawn to the path, however, Sirius and Draco froze at the loud '_clack-clack-clack' of their claws on the pavement.  Draco quickly cast a silencing spell on their feet, which Charles and Elvira did not seem to care for. The griffins pranced a bit, shaking their feet out gingerly. They disliked the vocal silencing spell Draco quickly cast as they started to open their beaks to voice a protest even more.  Their eyes flared even as all of the feathers on their necks ruffled and stood straight out in a typical display of griffin fury._

"Smart move," whispered Sirius; "wait right here. I'm going to go wake up Harold."

"Hurry up.  Dawn's coming and if you think silencing spells upset them imagine what cloaking will do to them."

Sirius Apparated into the front hall of his cousin's large, Muggle-style 1920's home, and lit his wand dimly to help himself navigate the stairs to reach the third floor where the bedrooms were.  He double-checked all the guestrooms to make sure Harold wasn't hosting any of the odd assorted guests he tended to have about.  Luckily it seemed even the misfit wizard crowd all had homes to go to over the holidays, probably pointed out to them in loud no-nonsense terms such as Liz had used to express her unhappiness over Harold's original intent to spend the holiday in Spain for the purpose of observing some sort of beetle migration.  Harold had instead shown up at his cousin's home in perfectly pressed new robes and sporting a haircut on Christmas morning, and settled for talking to Griffin _about the beetles, rather than __observing them.  _

Sirius went into the master bedroom and brought the fire up. Harold was buried in this bed under heaps of blankets and crups. Sirius deliberately stayed in the doorway and gave out a very loud whistle.

The bed erupted into a seething mass of yipping fur and sputtering wizard.  "OI NOW!  Settle out!" cried Harold Black, even as he swatted blankets at his pets to try and quiet them down. "What the….?" Harold now noticed the fire was up, and then his head turned to see Sirius, who waved at him.

"Get on, Sirius!  What'd you want to make an entrance like this for? What…what time is it for Merlin's sake?!"

"Rather early.  Listen, Harold, you'll see this in the Prophet this morning, but you need to know that something's happened to Griffin…."

"What, what!?!" Harold was up now, crups pouring off the bed after him. "Is he alright?"

"I don't know…look, I need your help.  Lock that pack of hellhounds in this room and come with me, _please."_

Harold grabbed his wand and his dressing gown, said something to the five animals leaping about at his feet that got them all to sit immediately and led Sirius into the hall, charming the door shut behind him.

"Well? What's going on and what can _I possibly do?"_

"Harold, you know how people always tease that Hufflepuffs aren't brave? You're going to get the chance of a lifetime to shut all that nonsense up once and for all…."

***

Kilometres below the apprehensive figure of Harold Black following his younger and more adventurous cousin down the fashionable white marble steps of the art-deco stairs of his Muggle-designed home, Harold's second cousin was plotting something he would later deem far more sinister than what was in store for him in the next 30 seconds.

Griffin Black, youngest current member of a long and distinguished yet notably eccentric house of Wizards, was about to consent to something fantastically inappropriate for normal circumstances.  Given that he was currently inundated with extraordinary circumstances, he hoped that history would be kind to him and not brand him yet another 'odd duck' in the family line.  Not that he had anything against the odd ducks; they were lovely, and none more so than his own father, but contemplating moments such as this reminded him just how much of his mother's sensibility infused his DNA.

Billy Stockwell was a trooper.  A _real trouper and possibly one who deserved more than where his own fate had led him to.  Of course, any Muggle less than this chap would ruin the whole plan, so there one was._

"Griffin?"

Griffin shifted his sympathetic gaze from the young man idly trying to look calm as he studied the wall of the vault he was locked in, as the woman he currently had a bit of a fancy on had asked him.  Griffin turned instead to give Roarke Lupin a rather pointed look.

"So we understand each other….Are you suggesting we _transfigure Billy in some way?"_

"Yes."  Roarke didn't even seem remotely abashed at this idea.  Griffin have her a tense look.

"He's no hedgehog, Firecracker."

"Well, bloody good thing. We need him to talk; well, we might."

"You are going to transfigure him into…?"

"A goblin.  What else?  The door will recognize nobody save a goblin.  You and I can't handle trying to break it…."

"Then why did you have me searching for the pennwij in the first place?!"

Roarke gave Griffin a rather huffy glance.  "I needed to make certain that the thing was _in the door, didn't I?  Look, I know a fair amount of Tuath, but not enough to break their spells on locks."_

Griffin raised an eyebrow at her.

"Isn't that the most important thing for these mugs?  Why were they so interested in you if you can't break…."

"I can counter their curses.  Look, the more I think about it, the more I think that those who … invited me back as it were… wanted me because I could 'help', against my own knowledge, with this little insurrection.  No matter with that now though.  The next issue is how do we get him on the _other side of the door?"_

"Can't you Apparate him there?"

Roarke pursed her lips and shook her head. "No.  I've only just got the hang of Apparating myself.  I'll spilch the poor chap for sure."

Griffin's hands clenched in his pockets as he took a deep breath to try and calm himself, as he could feel a rather sharp stress headache coming on.  As he did this, however, he snagged something tucked into the farthest rather crumbly corner of his trousers.  He looked up at Roarke so quickly she blinked and took a step back.

"What?"

Griffin pulled his hand out and showed her what he'd found.

"A rock?"

"Not just a rock, my _safety rock!"_

"Come again?"

"When I was about 8, my mum taught me how to make a portkey.  Made her and dad feel better…well, probably made _dad feel better, knowing that if worse came to worse, I could get myself out of trouble, or at least get some distance between me and whatever it was."_

"You learned to make a portkey at eight?"  Roarke actually sounded impressed.

"Not a really powerful one, but enough to get a goblin to the other side of that door!"

Roarke looked for a second as if she just might break down and hug Griffin.  Then she looked concerned again.

"Now hang on; we have no idea what's on the other side of the door.  How will you set the marker?"

Griffin looked at the door and gave a small shrug.  "I'll just have to take my chances, won't I?"

Roarke nodded, then took a deep breath and turned to face Billy Stockwell.

"Billy?  Could you come here a moment?"


	10. Curiouser & Curiouser

Chapter Nine

Curiouser and Curiouser 

**I have yet to see any problem, however complicated, which, when looked at in the right way, did not become still more complicated.**

**-P. Anderson**

**_THE STORY THUS FAR:_**

_Right – For those of you (such as my dear Beta Wolves) who need a reminder of just WHAT is going on…. Yes, yes, my own fault; I *do* realize how long it has been since I updated.  Ahem!_

_The peace of the Christmas season has been shattered at the Lupin and Black households.  Unwittingly, Roarke Lupin & Griffin Black have managed to be swept up into the eye of the storm of what will become known as the 73rd Goblin Rebellion in later editions of 'A History of Magic'. It started innocently enough; Roarke was on a job interview (that ended with her rescuing a Muggle from Trolls) and __Griffin__ was trying to pretend he wasn't on a date with Annie Lupin (Gary Weasley being brought along as 'proof' of this)._

_Remus Lupin and Sirius Black are not about to sit around waiting for the Ministry of Magic to 'work things out' with the Goblin Council.  With the assistance of Draco Malfoy (Professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry) they have managed to persuade a goblin who couldn't get away from Draco fast enough to cough up a valuable piece of information: there is a secret entrance to the Goblin Warren under London that houses Gringotts & other whatnots – and all evidence points to the fact that this was where Roarke and Griffin were taken.  Oh yes – and the poor Muggle rescued from Trolls, Billy Stockwell._

_The catch to the secret entrance is that humans cannot pass it unless taken in by a Goblin.  Padfoot & Moony have come up with a unique solution to this issue; one that relies on the use of griffins (the beasts, not the boy) and the full moon due that evening…._

_ Oh, also running about are Malcolm Lupin (Junior Auror), Katie & Liz (turning a semi-blind eye to the activities of their spouses), Annie & Gary (who are determined to help Remus and Sirius but not get caught doing it), an understanding woman with nerves of steel named Peliah Mercier (set to become the future Lady Malfoy, despite Draco at times) and Harold Black.  Harold is Sirius' older cousin, the only other remaining member of that once great family.  Harold is about to have his last nerve tested, but he has always had a soft spot for Cousin Sirius and this is not the first odd situation that this has placed him in.  Though it is the first time even Sirius has asked him to secret fantastic beasts in his __London__ townhouse._

_Well, those are the highlights.  Of course there are a lot of subtle details that will be threaded back in here; they don't merit the Summary, but they are hardly forgotten. We are not at the end, I have a few more twists and turns - but we are getting close. _

***

The faint sound of tiny feet pittering down a rather gloomy corridor grew louder for a few moments, and then faded off in another direction.  Several silent heartbeats later, the noise came back only this time it seemed there were rather a few more feet contributing. As before, these grew gradually, and then faded off in another direction.  It was impossible to tell which direction, of course; the Goblin burrow was too twisty, too dark and too charmed to allow anyone save the Goblins to know which end was left or right; or even, which corridors led up, down, or slightly to the northeast.  Even Goblins got lost, according to Wizard lore, but of course the Goblins seethed at the very idea of such a ridiculous thought.

The Goblins owning the feet currently puttering back and forth knew exactly where they were and exactly what they were doing.  They were also aware that things were developing faster elsewhere than they had anticipated, and hence the reason for the increase in volume.  Certainly not a one of them had been so careless as to _not anticipate the every move of the Wizards; but one or two of the band did start to have a slight concern that their timing on the unfolding of events may have been off.  But no one was saying anything.  They simply picked up their pace and, as Goblins always do, stuck to the original plan._

"Slipnod?"

Slipnod did not hesitate from his work on the large ledger two other Goblins held up in front of him, forming an impromptu desk.

"What now?"

"We're nearly done; shall we mark this section off and re-set the alarms?"

Slipnod make a few more checks in his book, and then nodded as he waved his ledger-bearers off with a hand desperately in need of a manicure, even for a Goblin.

"Yes.  And this time, make sure the alarms are properly secured.  We've had enough nasty shocks for one day.  And for god sake, give that one with the cold some Pepper-Up.  Disgusting."

The messenger looked extremely nervous.

"Ah…how does one administer that, exactly?"

Slipnod gave a twisted grin.

"Rather quickly, I should think."

***

"Roarke, I have a reasonably _bad feeling about this," Griffin whispered in a voice Billy Stockwell was sure he wasn't supposed to hear._

He did miss the response, but could just make out the boy's eyebrows draw closer together, and his naturally rather stormy look get darker. 

Billy turned his back on them now, and simply resolved himself to the fact that he was most likely going to die in this strange cave in a shower of pixie dust or something equally unlikely and (even though he could hardly come to grips with this fact) quite magical.  He gave his watch yet another nervous glance.  It was pointless, as the watch hadn't been working properly since he and his companions were deposited here.  At least, since Billy had first thought to look at the watch after he had regained some part of his senses.  The digital dial flashed random numbers and shapes wildly, none of which had anything to do with the time.  He couldn't guess how long they had been in this place; Griffin had taken his time going about the room and searching for the magical lock Roarke had spoken of.  

And so Billy sat on the floor as he was asked, and waited as he was told.  At this point there seemed no more reason to argue with whatever was happening, despite phrases like 'mummy's curse' 'dark magic' and 'you would call it fortune-telling' giving him small fits of hyperventilation every now and again.  Roarke, who spent most of the time standing next to him, would simply reach down when he did this and push his head forward between his knees and keep him there until he had stopped.  Then she would release him without a word.  Safe in the assumption by now that she would never go out with him anyway, Billy didn't really mind the routine.

When at last Griffin seemed to have found what he and Roarke were looking for, Billy stood up to see what was happening.  Roarke gave him another beautiful smile however and asked him to wait where he was.  He did so once again without much thought to questioning her (no doubt giving back another empty, sappy grin) and just turned to gaze at the wall for reasons he couldn't comprehend.  It wasn't as if architecture had ever interested him and he certainly didn't want to contemplate an entire Goblin Civilization. He focused on trying to convince himself that this was nothing but a very lifelike bad dream.  When he was called back, it was once again in that lovely calm voice of the grey-eyed witch. Odd, such a lovely voice in a nightmare, he thought.

"Billy, could you come here a moment?"

Billy took a deep breath, then turned and walked over to Roarke and Griffin.  The boy was giving him a look edged with pity, but Roarke was turning his insides to jelly once more with her smile. 

"Billy, we've figured a way out of this room, but we need your help.  Up for it?"

There was no missing the smirk Griffin quickly covered with one hand as Billy nodded more vigorously than he really needed to.  Billy wondered how much blush showed up in the blue cast of the room; some must have, as Griffin flinched as if pinched on the elbow when Roarke gave her wand a little twirl at her hip.  The two shared a long and clearly meaningful look then Roarke turned back to Billy and held up her hand to show him something.

"This is what we call a Portkey.  It has the ability to move you from one spot to another when it is activated."

"Okay…."

"Griffin is going to set this so that we can send you to the other side of the door, and then you can open it for us by giving it a good tickle."

"Um…why doesn't Griffin send himself?" asked Billy in a rather nervous tone.  The so-called 'Portkey' looked like a garden rock and had absolutely no appearance of being magical.  Then again what would he know about that?

"I can't, and neither can Roarke.  We need to send you."

"But… I'm a Muggle…." He stopped as both Griffin and Roarke giggled slightly in an almost identical fashion.  

"Sorry, Billy," said Roarke. "Muggles don't refer to themselves as such very often. The situation is that the Goblins have that door hexed…."

"_Hexed?"_

"Charmed; same thing.  Don't get caught up in linguistics as it serves little purpose in life."  

"Unless you're a lawyer or something else equally dedicated to loquacious verbosity," deadpanned Griffin. 

Roarke did give a small smile, though she commented pointedly over her shoulder that someone named 'serious' of all things was going to hear about that snipe.  She then continued addressing Billy. "The door is magically guarded so that magical folks such as Griffin and myself can't get through it and it can only be opened from the other side.  Yes, you are a Muggle and bloody lucky for us as we **can put you on the outside and then have ****you let us out!"**

Billy considered this, aware that the other two were now looking at him expectantly.  Refusal certainly wasn't an option based on what they had told him, but Billy had a sinking feeling that this was not going to be as simple as they wanted him to believe it would be.  Well as simple as being magically transported though a door protected by a mummy's curse, of all things, could be.

"And the curse in the door?"

Roarke _tsked at him._

"Billy!  I told you hours ago that was rot; stories made up to scare people who don't know any better.  **You know better as we've told you so.  However, I do want to perform a few protection spells on you before you go, just to give you an added boost. Harmless. Well, mostly harmless. Honest."**

Billy glanced at Griffin who now wore an expression so pointedly neutral Billy knew something was up.  Griffin had mentioned a set of parents several times; Billy wondered if they had their hands full with this one, magic or no. With a sigh, he nodded and resolved himself to what was going to happen.

At the very least, he was given a delightful surprise when Roarke cupped his face in her hands and gave him a kiss. 

"There's a good lad.  It'll all be over before you know it, I promise. Now, stand very still if you would."

Billy stood still, gulped audibly as Roarke raised her arm, and then he screwed his eyes shut, unwilling to see what happened next. He had to admit, part of him expected a cry of 'Hocus Pocus' to come next, but there was nothing but some whispered words he couldn't catch.

And then was only a roaring in his ears as Billy Stockwell staggered a bit to his left and then opened his eyes to see who had pushed him. Roarke looked like she was attempting to talk to him, but he wasn't able to make out the words.  Something must have happened; everything was spinning so fast and out of control around him, it actually appeared to him that he had shrunk and that the other two were towering over him.  It then occurred to him that he may be seated on the ground, having fallen down hard on his backside from the effects of the 'protection spell' Roarke promised would be 'somewhat' harmless.  All Billy could hear over the pounding of the blood in his head was the voice of his uncle quoting the great North American philosopher, Yogi Berra; 'You've got to be very careful if you don't know where you're going, because you might not get there.' Well no trouble there, Billy knew he was going to be transported through the door so there was nothing to worry about at all.

"Billy!"

His hearing now getting back to normal, Billy quickly refocused on Roarke. Actually, as she was now eye level with him again, Billy happily told himself that it he had only had some sort of momentary fit and was not, God forbid, allergic to pixie dust.  This thought actually made him giggle a bit and Roarke's raised eyebrow of concern only made his laughter worse.  

"Yessssss?"

"How do you feel?"

"Faaaaaan-tastico.  Jus' great, thank you!"

Griffin snickered somewhere behind Billy's left shoulder.  Billy swung around quickly to grin at the boy and finally try and do a little bonding with him – after all, why shouldn't he after what they had been through together? – when he had another attack of the vertigo-like sensation of Griffin being a good two feet taller than him.  He blinked quickly a few times, and it helped because Griffin came down to the proper height soon enough.

"Thanks!"

"For what?"

"For being a good boy and not being too tall anymore.  Totally annoying, you know?"

Griffin nodded sympathetically, still smiling broadly.

"Billy?"

Billy turned more slowly this time to face Roarke once more and his caution proved effective.  Roarke kept at eye level and didn't spin out in any direction.

"I think you had better take up the Portkey now; Griffin will activate it.  Remember what you need to do?"

"Ahb-sho-lutely.  I am to tickle the door! Give it a damn good run for it's money!"

"Ah, yes."

"Not that you'll be paid for doing this," Griffin commented in a merry tone. "Well, not from this room anyway.  You might luck out elsewhere if Roarke isn't as clever as she thinks she is …."

"Griffin! Shut up and activate the Portkey!"

"Temper, temper!  I'm not the one who just picked on the hedgehog here! And did you have any idea that the side-effect would be…"

"No.  Now send Mr. Stockwell on his way."

Billy felt himself urged forward so that he stood in front of the door.  Moving threw him off balance again; his legs felt very wobbly and almost as if they had been cut off just below the knee.  Worse, his skin felt funny and it seemed as if his clothes had doubled in size as the cloth brushed against him.  He looked over to see Griffin, still looking very entertained about something Billy couldn't quite follow, holding out the small rock he had held earlier.

"If you don't mind, try not to lose that once you get to the other side.  Stick it in a pocket or something if you can; it's a gift."

"Rock, gift, got it.  Pocket it is!"

"Thank you.  Now, when I say go, close you hand around the rock, and wait for the pull.  Trust me, you will know when it has worked."

"Should I close my eyes?"

"Only if you want to; it won't make any difference to the spell. Ready now?"

Billy nodded nervously and offered his hand.  Griffin dropped the small stone on Billy's palm, then took his wand and said words Billy couldn't place though he thought it sounded a little Latin in the way people who only hear Latin on TV-courtroom dramas recognize that language.  Billy felt his hand get warm and stared as the rock shimmered for a moment, then Griffin muttered 'go' quietly and Billy made a fist around the rock.

"Bit sloppy, Griffin, I saw the spell take," Roarke said from behind Billy.  Griffin seemed unimpressed and only gave Billy a small roll of his eyes before he pulled back from Billy's side.

"Would you care to do it next time?"

"I don't care for a next time at all, if you don't mind."

"Well I can understand that.  Four, three, two…."

Billy caught on that the countdown was happening just as something seemed to explode in his hand.  With a gasp, Billy felt the dizziness come back ten-times worse than before. It felt now as if a giant hand had come from the deceptively simple little rock and grabbed him about the middle, and then yanked him forward into a black pit. He would have screamed, he was sure of it, if he had had the time.  But to his astonishment, by the time he was focused enough to open his mouth and draw breath to expel with any sound or fury, he was dropped as quickly as he had been grabbed and he sat face up against a metal door.

His scream disappeared with the tiniest of squeaks, and Billy sat down hard on the floor.  He appeared to have 'transported' about a foot and was now simply pressed against the door, rather than standing just behind it. Shaking slightly, he swivelled carefully around to ask the other two what do to next….

Only they were not there.

Billy jumped to his feet, and saw that he was not in the dirt-floored room, but in a dark corridor with cobblestone paving and a high arched ceiling hung with lanterns casting more pale light. And there were metal doors up and down the corridor as far as he could see.  Stunned, he now looked down at the rock held in his hand and let out another nearly inaudible squeak.

***

It was still early enough at the Ministry of Magic that only a few Witches and Wizards still on the night watch were roaming the halls.  Malcolm Lupin decided he needed a break from the rather hectic and tense environment inside the Aurors' offices for a few minutes so he slipped out through the imposing ebony double-doors that marked the official entrance to the Department, but which were almost never used.  Aurors were far too fond of slipping in through hidden passages and such; the front door was too, well, mundane for them.  

"Well _someone wants a shave."_

Malcolm practically fell over in shock; he was so startled to hear the voice coming from one of the scores of corridors that crept to the rotunda in front of the Department.

"Oh, sorry Lupin! I thought you heard me!"

Malcolm gave a tired smile to Magnus Tavers.

"I'm not the Lupin with the good hearing, Mag. You should know better."

Malcolm's former upperclassman smiled back and shrugged his shoulder so that the large official owl sitting there moved up closer to his head; owls with the habit of sitting on the outside of the shoulder tended to slip, and consequently leave talon-scars on their exasperated handlers.

"What are you doing here so early then?"

Malcolm looked a little shocked, and said "you haven't _heard?"_

"Heard what?  I've been here all night; got my shift switched thanks to a little argument with one of the seniors, but it's been dead quiet at our end.  Well, until a little while ago and now I've got my own mystery. What's up?"

Malcolm shook his head and scratched at his chin, which did indeed need a shave. He explained the situation to Magnus, who looked more and more shocked as everything that had happened in the past 12 hours with the Goblins was detailed. When Malcolm finished and gave Magnus an expectant look, his be-owled friend commented only that the Goblins would rue the day they enraged Sirius Black.  Malcolm had to laugh, despite everything.  Magnus had always been terrified of Malcolm's godfather and made no secret of it.  Sirius had long ago stopped trying to befriend him and simply took every opportunity he could now to act as menacing and borderline insane near Magnus as he could get away with purely for the sport of it.

"What's your mystery then?" asked Malcolm, wanting to think about almost anything else at this point.

Magnus pointed at the owl still threatening to slip from its position on his left shoulder.

"Seems rather unimportant now; not a peep all night down there at the Improper Use rooms then I get a warning of underage magic being practiced.  I set a Quick-Quotes Quill on the note, sent the owl off and went back to other things."

"And so what does…." Malcolm stopped as Magnus produced an official 'Improper Use of Magic Office Paragraph C' letter from his robes.

"This fellow just brought it back.  Unopened and undelivered.  Rather unusual to start with.  I thought he might simply be at the end of his useful life," here the owl gave a cross sounding 'hoot' and from the wince on Magnus' face, seemed to tighten his talons in protest as well.

"Anyway; I looked at the receipt then and saw there was no name.  Sure enough, I opened the letter and there was only the form response and no name.  Look."

Malcolm took the letter and glanced at it.  There was indeed no name, which was odd to say the least.  He'd received two of these himself; the second one arrived to exactly the spot he was standing in, far from his home.  He had (probably like thousands of others) incorrectly assumed that if he wasn't home they wouldn't find him.  

"My first thought was that the Quick Quotes Quill was broken or something. But is _not the Quill. So my next thought was that it could be a Muggleborn we don't know about who just, well, got a bit of a shock or something.  But even then, it doesn't explain the lack of a __name.  We could identify the magic…."_

"But not the user," finished Malcolm.  He stared at the letter for a bit longer. "Why did the owl even accept it for delivery if there was no name?"

Magnus shook his head and looked exasperated.

"Don't ask me, I can't fathom how they think.  Returned mail comes back only if they can't find the recipient and not giving them a name doesn't always mean they don't _know who is supposed to get the letter as you know. I gave up trying to understand them when I was four. Anyway, this isn't without precedent," and here Magnus grimaced a bit.  _

"Last time the Ministry had this sort of incident was, well, before the Second Voldemort War.  Death Eaters training their spawn at home behind illegal wards, and I rather doubt that is the case now.  Still, who **else might want to be doing magic behind such charms? On that happy conclusion, I decided I might just wander down this way and see if any of you would want a look at it."**

"And you brought the owl because…?"

Magnus shrugged once more, and the owl finally took the hint and moved up his shoulder so close to his head half of Magnus' face was lost in the plumage.  Spitting around the feathers with a glare, Magnus said simply "Thought the owl could be of some use. There's also the possibility that this was deliberately returned, with the offenders name erased.  _That is something I wouldn't put past an underage … oh, __Gryffindor for example."_

Malcolm was about to say something pithy, but stopped when an idea came to him. Magnus Tavers' face showed that he may have just had the same idea.

"Malcolm…say our offender was _trapped behind those concealment wards."_

Malcolm nodded excitedly.  "It's a long shot – but I can imagine that forbidding the casting of spells to identify anyone who might be in the Gringotts vaults at any given time is one of the top 2 clauses of the Goblins' contract to provide banking services.  Secrecy is paramount! Let's go find Dexter."

The young man sputtered a bit. "Dexter…_Tanner?"_

Malcolm smiled.  "Yeah, the big boss.   I just had an idea, but we need his okay to follow through on it.  And I promise not to tell him about the Quick Quotes Quill."

"Thanks."

***

As Malcolm dragged Magnus with him in search of the Minister of Magic, his 'mad when it suited him' Godfather was just settling down to a very tense breakfast party being reluctantly hosted by Harold Black at his townhouse a few blocks away.  

Sirius himself was in good spirits; it was his breakfast companions who were making the air thick with nerves.  Sirius was happy that everything seemed to be coming together in the big picture; the events that led to his shocked cousin hosting of two griffins and a Malfoy had gone remarkably smoothly all things considered. However, it was now a tie as to which Harold considered the more dangerous guest in his home.  Draco was exhausted and in a wonderfully foul temper by this time and was at his nasty best; the griffins were proving to be equally unpleasant once they figured out that they were to be locked in the wine cellar. 

Harold seemed very unconvinced when Sirius assured him that Draco's evil purring was all for show these days and that _Professor Malfoy was one of the most respected and well liked teachers at Hogwarts.  Harold appeared to take this as news that the entire student body had turned to the Dark Forces when nobody was looking.  Only the assurance to Harold that Draco considered hexing Hufflepuffs beneath his dignity placated Harold enough to be going forward._

"Right," said Sirius, in a cheerful tone his companions obviously found out-of-place. "Harold, pour me some tea while I borrow the fire for a moment."

Sirius went to the fire and contacted Grey Timbers.  He was surprised to see Annie's head greeting him.

"Good morning, Sweetheart!  Daddy up?"

"Certainly not. It's bloody early."

"Well you're up; and do watch your tongue, Miss Lupin."

Annie ignored this questionable chastisement and instead gave a smile. This made Sirius wary for some reason.

"Can I deliver a message?"

"No, thanks; I'll try later."

"Fine.  But I do have a message for you, Sirius."

Sirius raised an eyebrow, and Annie continued. "Liz may still be at your home, and I can see you're not. If she is, she won't be for very long.  She and Mum are going to the Ministry to do what they can and keep track of what is happening.  You and Daddy are not invited; they said you would be underfoot."  Annie looked as if she didn't believe a word of it, but Sirius just smiled and nodded.

"Most likely we would be.  Have you had any new news, Annie?"

"No.  I'm going to talk to Malcolm when it reaches a decent hour as it's his job to keep us in the loop."

"Good plan.  You are staying there and taking care of Remus, yes?"

Annie looked very neutral when she agreed with this comment.  

"Annie, we'll have them back very soon.  I promise; don't fret."

Annie nodded and commented rather mysteriously that Sirius was always good at keeping his promises. 

Sirius said his goodbyes and extinguished the fire, then straightened up and moved back to the table.  Draco looked at him expectantly over his toast.

"Liz and Katie are going to the Ministry," Sirius said with barely controlled glee. "Having them busy certainly makes things simpler."

Draco coughed as his bark of laughter over that comment sent crumbs down the wrong pipe. When he recovered he shook his head at Sirius.

"You must be mad to underestimate Liz like that, Black! You think she's just going to go sit in her office clutching hands with Katie and the two of them moaning like some Victorian Muggle drama over the terrible fate of their children?"

Harold couldn't help but laugh slightly at that, and Sirius glared at him.

"Of course not, Malfoy; I've never been that mad from the day I met Liz and you well know it.  Obviously they have their own plan and are following it.  If they wanted me under lock and key I **would be under lock and key.  So would Remus."**

"He is," drawled Draco; "Annie is in charge.  Remus isn't going anywhere; Annie is not to be sweet-talked like Malcolm and Roarke could be under similar circumstances."

"Well, I actually have to agree with that one, Sirius," said Harold quietly. "Annie Lupin is a witch to be reckoned with to my understanding.  At least, that's what Griffin says."

Both Sirius and Draco laughed at this comment. Harold looked puzzled.

"Harold," said Draco, "Young Mister Black's read on Miss Lupin is somewhat biased if you haven't figured that much out yet.  But in this we all agree; she will **not let Remus out of that house if she doesn't think he should be."**

Sirius was about to retort when one of the house elves came in staggering against something struggling in its arms.  

"Mister Sirius sir; Tuddy is having something …for you…." The struggle ended as Sirius saw his favourite cat emancipate himself from the elf and shoot across the carpet to leap onto Sirius' lap.  Once there, the cat turned and gave the rather exasperated looking elf an extremely smug snarl.  

"Rubicon! Thank you, Tuddy.  When did he get here?"

"Only now, Sir.  Walked into the kitchens, just as you please!" Rubicon always did as he pleased, and Harold's elves had never cared for that sort of attitude.

"Well, thank you for bringing him to me," said Sirius, even as he caught the paw his pet was batting at him with.  His heart fluttered a bit when he saw a note attached to the cat's collar.

Draco's bloodshot eyes gave a little triumphant gleam at the sight of Sirius removing the message.

"_Billet Doux from your wife, Black?"_

Sirius chose to disregard the remark.  Owls he could dodge, the Familiar he could not and Liz knew it.  Wherever Sirius was, the cat would always find him.  Liz had relied on Rubicon's uncanny knack for this on several occasions.

_Mr. Black – _

_Don't you think it would be far less obvious if you kept a very public profile at this time?  Say, reporting to your office?  I believe you are in the middle of something for the Minister.  Wouldn't do to keep him waiting. I'll check in with you later there at Norqueys House._

_Love, Mrs. Black_

Harold cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow at Sirius when Sirius looked up.  The letter was passed over rather crisply and Sirius gave a slightly aggravated stab at his eggs.

"Fine.  I'll go to Norqueys House and play nice for a while.  Malfoy, may I suggest a nap?"

Draco did not break his yawn to make any comment.  He did give a curt nod of agreement as he reached for his tea.

"Sirius?"

"What, Harold?"

"Not to be unsupportive of whatever you have going on, but are you sure of what you are doing?"

Sirius smiled. "Of course! Look, sorry about the occupants of the wine cellar; if they break anything I'll replace it for you."

Harold waved the hand holding the letter in a dismissive fashion even as he dropped the note on the table. "I'm over that shock, thanks.  I'm trying to be practical here…."

Draco gave very familiar dismissive little sniff as he glanced at Sirius with hooded eyes.  Harold seemed to be feeling stronger now and glared at the younger man before turning back to Sirius.

"I demand to know exactly what the griffins are for.  Otherwise, I rat you out to Liz."

Sirius stared at Harold, even as Draco finally looked somewhat impressed.

"Harold, that's uncalled for! Didn't you always claim it was better _not to know what Remus and I may or may not have been doing under suspicious circumstances?"_

"When I was considerably younger, yes that seemed the best policy.  However, though you may have fancied I was a bit of a thickie in the rash of your youth, I am certain that with hindsight you can now see that I was following the maxim of discretion being the better part of valour.  I'm now claiming family seniority and pulling rank.  Spit it out or there will be consequences.  And you better convince me what you have planned isn't so damn daft I am forced to call your bluff.  And, I assure you, I will."

Sirius stared at Harold even as Draco began applauding.  But it was Draco who replied to Harold before Sirius could.

"Mr. Black, allow me to educate you on a little Tuath magical practice while we finish our meal; and your cousin's rather unique but ultimately sound way for circumventing both political dawdling through diplomacy and…basic rules of nature."

***

Remus came downstairs and was rather startled to find nobody save Gary Weasley sitting at the kitchen table with The Daily Prophet.  It took him a moment, but then he remembered he had in fact asked the young man to stay the evening before.  Remus was never at his best first thing on the morning before a full moon.

"Good morning, Remus."

"Gary.  Where are Katie and Annie?"

"Katie has gone with Liz to the Ministry, and Annie…is about."

Remus gave Gary a rather questioning and somewhat bloodshot look, but Gary didn't so much as flinch.  Remus had to mentally remind himself that this young man knew how to get the better of Hermione.

Annie burst into the kitchen at that moment from the back and practically swooped at her father.

"Daddy!  Sit down, I'll get you some breakfast.  Gary!  Why are you just sitting there?"

"Analyise!"  

Remus' youngest daughter stopped mid stride at the uttering of the given-name-that-must-not-be-named and stared at him.

"Just because your mum isn't here is no reason for you to turn into her _quite so early on in your life.  I can take care of myself."_

The rest of the morning progressed in the same vein.  Remus snapped at all offers of help, Annie continued to attempt to fuss from time to time, and Gary seemed to just hang about the place with no particular purpose other than making sure he always knew where Remus was.  To further add to his nerves, Remus had received no word from Katie, Malcolm _or Sirius for hours. The only contact any of them had with the outside world at all was when the Werewolf Support Unit Deputy came by for her standard check-in.  She seemed to be totally oblivious to what was happening; Remus found it startling that the news seemed to have been contained so well.  Not seeing anything in the Prophet was one thing; no scuttlebutt working its way through the gossip Floo Network was another.  _

The rest of Remus' energy that morning was dedicated to trying to figure out the most unobtrusive way of slipping out of the house later.  Annie and Gary, no doubt under Katie's instruction, seemed to have worked out a method of covering every possible entrance and egress to the house without being overt about it. Remus had already come up with a simple yet effective way to leave everyone under the impression he was transformed in his room, but getting out of the room and away from his daughter and Weasley Junior was another thing entirely.  Annie would see to it that he was closed in his study when the hour of the transformation neared, and  by that point Remus would be in no shape to Apparate, and his fireplace would be removed from the Floo Network so it was out of the question to simply waltz into the flames and vanish.  At least, from the study; somehow he had to get to the kitchens.

Katie returned to the house at lunchtime, and brought an update as to what was going on.  The Aurors had Obliviated everyone in the alley so that was the reason no Wizard news had spread.  The Goblins had in fact closed Gringotts, but the official story was that there had been an imp infestation, and they were exterminating so had closed early for the weekend.

"That gives the Ministry and the Dahn-Senge four days to work this out," said Katie. "At least, it gives them four days until they need a new excuse. All Liz and I have seen today is a lot of running about and several near fist-fights between goblins and junior ministers.  But Liz and I are keeping busy helping to interview people who think they are coming in to the Ministry over their inland-tax revenues, but with a little 'help' are actually accounting for what they saw last night."

"Coffee cake or biscuits?" asked Annie with a faint grin.

"Biscuits; people are more inclined to eat them on impulse when offered, Sweetheart. Still, some people won't bite and I've learned more about tax law than I ever cared to.  And there have been two official complaints lodged over Junior Ministers wasting people's time for no good reason."

"Have you had a chance to speak with Malcolm?"

"Only for a very brief moment; he seems to be extremely pre-occupied with something but wouldn't tell me what it was.  Or rather, he promised me he'd be back when he had something more interesting to tell me.  Oddly enough, he had Magnus with him.  I suppose if they are calling in members of other departments to help they really are doing their best."

"Who's Magnus?" asked Gary.

Remus drummed his fingers on the table.  "He's a few years ahead of Malcolm, and left Hogwarts before your time.  He tutored Malcolm in Arithmancy for a bit, and now he works in the Office for the Misuse of Magic but only until he passes his banking exams. After that, the goblins will have some serious competition.  So will the Muggles, I expect."

They ate in silence for a bit until Remus asked in the most casual voice he could manage if Katie had seen Sirius at all.  His wife looked at him carefully then said that Sirius was at his office, under Liz's direct request.

"Why?  You haven't spoken to him today?"

"No, actually.  I've got a bit of a headache and have been resting quietly here all day."

Katie's eyes made it very clear she was not buying Remus' casual air, or the claim of a headache, at all.  Remus saw Annie and Gary watching his and Katie's interactions carefully; Katie was not showing any signs of giving 'Silent Consent' and Remus swore rather rudely to himself.  Obviously, she _was using the children to corral him just as Liz was using the staff of Norqueys House to keep Sirius 'contained'._

Katie finished her lunch, and told Remus that if he was feeling poorly he had best go lie on a couch; she would clear up.  With that, she sent the lunch remains into the kitchen with a flick of her wand, and collected Gary and Annie and shooed them in the direction of the kitchens.  Remus waited a few moments before silently creeping down the hallway after them to try and hear what Katie's further instructions would be.  Katie, however, had closed the kitchen door and put a silencing charm up.

Feeling a little affronted, but having the sense to know that he deserved such caution, Remus opted to go lie down in the front room and try to figure out the best way of contacting Sirius.  He entered the room only to find all three of the family owls had retreated to the very top bookshelf and were scolding something outside the French doors loudly.  Remus crossed over, and was delighted to open the doors and admit Rubicon, who strutted in, ignored the owls, and jumped up on one of the end tables.

"Well, well.  A cat I am actually pleased to see!"

Rubicon gave Remus a haughty green stare and turned his head so Remus could access the note charmed to his collar.  Remus took it and even went so far as to give the animal a few soft pats on the head.  Rubicon flattened his ears out and shrugged away from the hand, giving Remus a look that clearly said 'idiot! I'm not a _dog!'._

_Moony – _

_Malfoy found what he needed.  Almanac says __7:43__ is the zero-hour.  I'll be by at __7:13__ to make certain you are all tucked in safely.  Make sure all witches are clear of the area, as I've nothing to say to any of them._

_Padfoot._

Remus tossed the note in the fire, and was about to let Rubicon back out when he heard Katie calling to him and walking across the front hall.  Without giving it much thought, Remus scooped up Rubicon and quickly dropped the startled cat in the coal bin.  The owls seemed to cheer even as Katie came in.

"Remus…what are you doing?"

"I was just adding some more coal to the fire," Remus said.  Katie looked at the large roaring fire and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm cold, Katie-love."

"Then have some soup and get a good blanket to curl up with.  I'm sorry I'm not here for you right now, love.  But Annie and Gary are right here and if you need anything give your youngest daughter the chance to coddle you a bit.  That nurturing gene of hers needs a good workout now that Malcolm is through moping over the demise of his love-life."

"Certainly.  And I would much rather have you, and Liz, making sure they are not mucking about in getting Roarke and Griffin back. Oh, and that poor Muggle who has managed to put himself in the middle of this."

Katie actually laughed, and Remus was about to join in when he heard a distinctly furious low growl come out of the coal box next to him. Rubicon was over his initial shock at the indignity of his situation.  Katie missed it, but once Rubicon started to actually yowl, Remus was doomed.  He moved quickly to Katie and gave her a kiss even as he turned her back out of the room.

"Off with you; maybe Malcolm has made progress on his mystery…." Faint scratching noises could now be heard.  Were Rubicon just a cat Remus would no doubt not feel such a panic, but Rubicon was a Guardian, and it was only a matter of time before the coal box simply exploded from his fury and there would be little chance of explaining that away to Katie.

"Yes, Remus, I am going.  Any reason I need to rush?"

"None in particular."

"Right.  And for goodness sake let the owls _out; how will you rest with that racket going on?"_

Remus gave her another kiss even as he pulled her wand from her waistband and thrust it into her hand.

"Off with you.  I'll see you …well, tomorrow I guess.  Stay there, please.  Do what you can, and I promise I will let Annie fuss if I get too strained.  But it helps knowing that you and Liz are there, you know."

Katie smiled and then Apparated with a small 'pop'.  Remus practically flew back through the doorway and raced for the coal bin.  He flung open the lid and found himself face to face with a livid cat standing on now glowing coals. Out of instinct Remus reached for Rubicon but the cat gave a vicious sounding _hiss and swiped at Remus' hand even as he sprang from the box. Remus decided it would be far safer to charm the door open from where he stood at the other side of the room._

"_Alohamora!"_

The French doors opened and Rubicon was gone in a flash, only a fresh track of cat-prints made of coal dust left.  Remus quickly cast a freezing spell on the coals before they set the room on fire and let the lid to the coal bin fall shut with a bang.

"Bloody felines," he muttered and collapsed on the couch for a nap.

***

Sirius buried himself in legal briefs and staff meetings all day, making a very public show of being far to busy to worry about Goblins or missing children.  It was a little easier to pull off since nobody had any idea what was going on; had Sirius spent the day ducking from condolences and sad 'knowing' looks he would have run screaming long ago, his wife be damned.  

The only mentions of what was happening outside of the office came from the hourly status reports sent by Harold on the condition of his home.  It seemed that muffled shrieks and faint suggestions of breaking glass were effectively communicating the griffins' increased fury over their confinement that morning.  By eleven o'clock Harold reported that Draco was venturing into the cellar with heaps of food to try and restore peace.  At noon came the report that the griffins had been emancipated from the cellar and into the salon, and Draco had successfully bandaged up both his hands.  At one o'clock the news was of the total destruction of all side tables and throw-pillows in the salon.  Harold acknowledged that was his fault, as it should have occurred to him to remove them.  

Rubicon returned from Remus' house in a filthy state, his fine black fur covered with a thick layer of what Sirius discovered to be coal-dust. Not certain as to how that could have happened, Sirius left his still livid pet to a bath he insisted on giving himself in the middle of the main sofa.  The note, however, was gone from his collar so Sirius went forward thinking that all was set in Exeter for this evening.

The update from Harold at five o'clock simply read COME BACK THIS INSTANT and Sirius dutifully slipped out the back with Rubicon tucked under his cloak. He Apparated the two of them to Harold's front door and was about to let himself in when the door was opened for him by an extremely agitated looking Tuddy.

"Mister Sirius, _Sir! You is in a considerable amount of trouble!  This is not a house for such things!  Your own house, yes indeed Tuddy knows well this would be common, but not here.  We are a __quiet house, Mister Sirius! You is __very lucky the Missus is not here any longer, as she would hex Mister Sirius!  She would have indeed, gods rest her soul!"_

Tuddy stopped his tirade as Rubicon poked his head out from under Sirius cloak and gave him a smug look.  The cat seemed obviously pleased over the house-elf's angst.  Tuddy stamped a foot and shook his head.

"No, Mister Sirius!  No! You is not bringing anymore creatures in this house!  Send the cat back to your own house, Mister Sirius.  Tuddy is _not letting it in!"_

Sirius opened his cloak and dropped Rubicon on the top step.

"Home with you.  You've been wonderful but I've no more need for you just now."

Rubicon gave the impression of considering running past the house-elf in the doorway purely for the sport of further infuriating the creature.  Sirius had the feeling that if the cat did try it, Tuddy would most likely blast the cat across the street and into the park behind him.  Luckily Rubicon seemed to have the same impression, so he simply ran down the front steps and disappeared.

"Can I come in now, Tuddy?"

Tuddy stepped aside and gave a little nod. "Yes you is best coming in.  They is all on the roof."

Sirius swivelled on his heel to stare back at the house-elf.

"The **roof?"**

"Mister Draco," said Tuddy with an even deeper tone of annoyance, "is saying that if those things can see the sky, they will be happier.  They is not.  They is still very badly behaved, and Mister Sirius had best apologise for this mess!"

"Mister Sirius does, Tuddy and he will help you with the mess when he can.  Still friends?"

Tuddy nodded and sighed. "Of course Tuddy is friends with Mister Sirius; he has been since Mister Sirius was smaller than Tuddy.  But Tuddy is still **cross with Mister Sirius."**

Sirius smiled and then went up the four flights of stairs to the door for the roof garden.  He opened the door slowly and peeked out to see what he would find. If the state of the garden was any preview of the state of the salon, Sirius had the distinct impression that once Gringotts was reopened he would be buying a lot of new furniture for Harold. And extra sweaters for Tuddy. 

Harold was sitting on the ground, leaning against a garden bench with a look of utter exhaustion.  Most of the colour pots were upturned, and it was obvious something with large talons had gone digging in the rose-boxes.  Most startling, however, was the odd assortment of children's toys strewn about.  Sirius had a flash back to long days spent with Griffin when he was three or four years old; the garden rather appeared to have been attacked by pre-schoolers on a tear. No wonder Harold and Tuddy were at their wits end; they had never dealt with a force of this nature.

"Harold?"

Harold didn't turn but grunted an acknowledgement to Sirius.  Sirius stepped over the mess and came to squat next to his cousin.

"Tuddy is ready to blast me.  What about you?"

"I'm too tired to do it.  Or to stop Tuddy from doing it, come to think of it."

"I suppose pointing out that this is all for a good cause would be a little poorly received?"

Harold turned to give Sirius a long look. "Those griffins are lucky I love my own Griffin enough to put up with them.  Utter monsters.  You told me they were Malfoy's pets!"

"After a fashion; I never said they were indoor pets though."

"Really; I would hardly have guessed."

Sirius now caught sight of the perpetrators; they were actually sleeping next to each other with Draco propped up against one large red flank and his feet resting on the opposite creature. Sirius had never been able to tell them apart. 

"Seem to be calm now," he tried in a conversational tone.  Harold didn't bite.

"You and I will discuss this later. Bastards wore themselves out finally, once Malfoy abandoned me for an hour to go any buy a small fortune of toys, which were promptly eaten.  At least they stopped nattering; I was going mad."

"Can't leave them alone for a second, can you?"

"No.  And they cried when Malfoy was out, no matter what I tried. Have you even had the adventure of trying to entertain a beast determined to be miserable?"

Sirius started to laugh finally, and only laughed harder at the incredulous stare from his cousin.

"Oh please, enlighten me as to what is so damn FUNNY about this!"

"Harold, sorry; I am laughing," Sirius said with a grin, "at what Malfoy is going to say about this when he wakes up.  You know he's getting married, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, I can't decide if it would be more wicked to tell him this was a preview of what children are like or let him discover that for himself."

Harold looked over at Malfoy and gave a rather dark smile himself.  "Let him find out on his own.  Then remind him of this day any time he complains."

"Deal.  Now, let's wake him and not the beasties to go over our next steps.  I need to get to Exeter and get Remus out of that house from under Annie's nose.  Personally," Sirius looked at Harold, "I think I would have traded you for the griffin-sitting had I the opportunity."

***

Remus woke up at dusk, and groaned at the familiar ache that was setting in to his bones and joints.  He looked at the clock to see it was just after five in the afternoon.  He sat up slowly and stretched, then looked to see Annie sitting in the chair across from him.  He had the distinct impression she had probably been waiting for him to wake up, but just smiled at her and held out a hand.  His daughter stood and came over to hold his hand.

"Hi.  Good nap?"

"Very nice, thank you.  Where is Gary?"

"I told him he really didn't need to be here anymore, and that you preferred having the house clear of guests on nights like this.  Even guests who know what's going on.  Want anything to eat?"

Remus shook his head and stood up.  "Let's take some light tea in the study if you don't mind.  I'm getting to that point where I really don't want to move very much," Remus said as he led Annie from the room.  He wasn't lying; he was getting to the point where he only wanted to sit quietly and wait for everything to be over with once more.  But he also wanted to start keeping as close control over Annie's movements as possible.  Gary having left seemed too good to be true; either he hadn't gone far or Katie was going to be home sooner than planned. Remus was betting on Gary's having not left at all, but rather being in the kitchen or the second study at the far side of the house. At least, that is what he would have done in a similar situation and he knew that he was at long last ruing the day he had not heeded his wife's warnings that training his children in 'clandestine behaviour' would come back at him one day.  

Remus forced himself to eat more than he cared to, knowing he would need energy.  He chatted a bit with Annie about nothing too particular and kept an eye on the clock.  Just before seven, he shooed her out of the room and told Annie not to bother him the following morning unless there was news about Roarke and Griffin.  

"And when mum gets back?"

Remus smiled quietly. "No doubt she will let herself in.  Goodnight."

Remus quietly closed the door and charmed it shut, as per the norm.  He was starting to feel shaky and decided to sit at his desk and just wait for Sirius to show up.  Remus must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew the clock struck the quarter hour and there was a loud 'thump' against the window looking onto the woods at the side of the house.  Remus sat there for a second, waiting to see if the sound had been something innocent or… he jumped up at the next 'thump!' and went to look outside. At first he saw nothing extraordinary, and then small glowing letters appeared reading 'GET BACK' near the top of one of the closer trees.

Remus stepped back just as a rock came crashing through the pane.  Remus stared at it, and then heard the soft sound of something knocking on the window frame.  He stepped forward to see Sirius' head appear in thin air.  He was obviously on his broom and had managed to get his hands on an invisibility cloak.

"What the devil are you playing at? What the hell are you doing sending _rocks through the window?!" growled Remus crossly._

Sirius shook his head and flew up closer to the window, then reached through to unlock the lower panel and pull open the window.

"I couldn't very well _charm it open, now could I?  Any magic performed on this end of the house and we'd have Ministry lackeys all over your rose beds, wouldn't we?  Needed a good old-fashioned approach."_

"You daft git! Why didn't you just TELL ME to open the window?"

Sirius did look a little surprised. "Ah.  Well, you're right there.  Sorry, wasn't thinking about that.  Then again, could you have opened the window?"

"Of course I can open the window! The wards are on the outside of the property in case the potion doesn't work or something.  Why would the window be charmed when a werewolf doesn't have any opposable thumbs to OPEN it?"

Sirius tsked him even as he motioned for Remus to get a move on.

"Keep your temper, Moony; I'll fix the window when we get back.  Now hurry up; we still need to get to the kitchen and get past Annie."

Remus turned to one of the book cases and pulled a large box down.  Sirius peered through the window at it, giving it a very curious look when it rattled slightly as Remus put it on the floor.

"What's that?"

"Small piece of handiwork I did earlier to give the impression that I was still in the room.  Of course, I now run the risk of it jumping out the window!"  Remus took the top off of the box and a rather large stuffed toy wolf jumped out and went over to stand in front of the fire.  It gave a small bark to Remus, then turned its attention to pacing back and forth on the floor.  It even had little nails that clicked on the wood.

"Moony, is that some stuffed toy?"

"Indeed; I found it in a Muggle toy shop a few years ago and bought it as a joke.  I've charmed it so it acts like a real wolf for a few hours.  Well, so it acts like I do at least.  It will pace, mumble to itself and bark at anyone who knocks on the door to ask if it is okay."

"Very nice.  And rather cute, might I add.  Excellent touch."

Remus thanked him and started to haul himself over the window ledge and swatted at Sirius' offered hand.

"Back off, you menace; this is the first floor!  You can get off the broom and get out of my way!"

Unfortunately, as Sirius was still mostly invisible Remus misjudged where the edge of the cloak was.  As Sirius turned to dismount, Remus trod on the edge of the cloak that was pooled on the ground.  The result was Sirius being pulled back quickly with a slight choking sound as the clasps at the robe's neck strangled him and his broom mistook his movements as a command to shoot off at top speed.  Sirius fell backwards heavily, hitting Remus square in the chest and both of them fell backwards over the window ledge and into the study. The toy wolf gave a few offended sounding barks until Remus shushed it, looking worriedly at the door.

"Excellent, Padfoot.  We're back in the room.  First rate rescue, I must say!"

Sirius jumped up and leapt back out of the window, ignoring Remus.

"The bloody broom!  Where the hell did it go?"

Remus climbed back onto the window ledge and managed to make a far more graceful exit without Sirius in his way.  However, he quickly grabbed what he could see of Sirius' left arm and pulled him up short from running back into the woods.

"_Leave it.  It'll be in a tree somewhere.  You can collect it when you come back to fix the window!"_

"Do you have any idea what that broom costs? I can't leave it lying about in the snow!"

"Oh, and basically leaving a bloody great hole in my wall for all the snow to get in and coat my work is acceptable?"

Sirius started to say something, but looked at his watch and thought better of it.

"Come on, get under this cloak.  Best idea for distracting Annie to get her away from the fire?"

"If the shattering glass and the barking haven't distracted her by now I'm afraid I'm fresh out of good ideas."

"You are _such a pain in the backside just before you transform, you know that?"_

Remus grunted and took the lead in steering them around the corner of the house as Sirius seemed to keep stepping off the path and threatening to trip them.  They came to peer in one of the far kitchen windows, and saw nothing. 

"Hmmm.  Either she is now trying to have a meaningful conversation with the stuffed toy or she's off in her room or something.  I'd rather know _exactly where she is."_

Sirius simply went for the door, dragging Remus with him.

"It doesn't matter where she is, does it?  It only matters that the coast is clear right now.  _Alohamora!" They went into the kitchen and Sirius charmed the door to the rest of the house shut very quietly._

"Quick now; we're going to go to Harold's.  How are you holding up?"

"We're pushing our luck…I've got about 12 minutes left from the feel of things."

"Time to make it to Harold's and then to the gate, not a problem.  Besides, if you transform once we get out of here, not such a problem is it?"

Remus looked slightly aghast. "Not a _problem, Padfoot? Not a __problem with a wolf trotting through fashionable Muggle London?"_

"They'll just think you are some fantastically expensive new breed of dog.  Now go!"

Remus grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and sent himself to Harold Black's house.  Sirius was just about to follow when he noticed they had left a very incriminating trail of melted snow between the door and the fireplace.  He sent a tea towel on the mess and then quickly took the lock off the main kitchen door before heaving a sigh of relief, and leaving through the fire himself.

***

It wasn't until the second flash of green light from the kitchen that Annie and Gary allowed themselves to burst into fits of laughter.  From their vantage point in the tree at the end of the garden next to the horse paddock they had had a superb view of the goings on. 

"So much for making it 'easy' for them by clearing out of the house!" laughed Gary, even as he jumped to the ground.

"What a performance!  I can't decide what was better, the pratfall or the bickering like 3 year olds!

"I want to know what was barking at them, myself!"

Annie and Gary ran over to the broken window and looked in.  They saw nothing out of the ordinary until the enchanted toy jumped up onto the desk and started howling at them.  This made them gasp and then start laughing again.

"Oh, priceless!  Priceless!  We need a picture so we can share this when the fuss is over!"

Annie shook her head and started to walk to the back of the house.

"We can't right now, there's no time.  Too bad we can't fix that window for Daddy as it does look like it might snow a bit. Come on, we need to get to the gate to make sure they make it and then we need to get back here before Mum comes home!  She'll go into the study no doubt if I'm not here to make certain she doesn't, and then…well, I don't want to think about that one. We'll just go through at the Leaky Cauldron and then come right back here and no one will be the wiser."


End file.
